Through Guilty Eyes
by Nina La Vough
Summary: When an unsolved case comes back to haunt Max, Jordan, and Eddie Winslow, Woody finds himself reluctantly pulled in to help solve the mystery as Jordan finds herself confronted with the three men she has loved and had her heart broken by.
1. Skeletons in the Closet

**This time Nina is three people: Madmadambeth, CJfann, and NCCJFAN. We have worked on this critter since early summer, waaaaayyyyy long before the season premiere…**

**And it's finally finished. Hope you enjoy it as much as we enjoyed writing it. The more reviews we get the more inclined we'll be to write another. **

**Special thanks should go to Sherrbear who brought us together…**

**And…by the way … none of own anything to do with CJ. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero. However…if Tim Kring wants us to write the season finale, we're up to the job…**

**Chapter One**

**Skeletons in the Closet**

_It was hot and muggy, one of those nights that the air was so thick with moisture I knew the skies would open up any second. It was the perfect night for business. We sat in the utility truck outside the house on Grant Road with the lights off studying the facade of the house. It was just what it was...a facade. It may have looked like a fortress, but nothing could keep us out. It was our job and we're good at our job. I didn't need to look at the pictures lying on the seat between us to know that the woman fanning herself in front of the open living room window was Claire Rosen. I assume she would be calling beautiful, if you like that overblown Western look. Apparently, for wife number three, that's what Mr. Rosen wanted. Personally, I like them tall and slender, but it's not my place to make judgment. We just take care of the situations as they arise. A flash of heat lighting reminded me that we needed to get moving. Our employer was very specific on how he wanted this job carried out. I grabbed the bag and opened the driver's side door. I love hot muggy, weather. People would leave their doors and windows open welcoming in the slightest breeze in turn... making it so easy..._

"_Неопределены словари..." Let's go..._

July, 1993

Eddie Winslow flapped a page in his notebook and yelled over to his partner, "Everything is closed up tight. There is no sign of forced entry. No prints to speak of. We're checking for signs of robbery now."

"It's too clean. I don't think you're going to find anything obvious. This was a hit."

"How can you be so sure? It was pretty messy for a hit. My money says we're looking at a botched robbery..."

After an hour at the scene Eddie was still regretting his Egg McMuffin breakfast. The Vicks he forced himself to slap underneath his nose wasn't helping much. He didn't need to look in a mirror to know his skin had a decided green tint to it. The only one that didn't seem to be thusly affected was his partner of six months, Lt. Max Cavanngh, and the ME called to the scene...but he doubted anything got to The Dragon Lady.

Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Rosen were not found until their cleaning lady showed up for work. Either the Rosen's were very clean people or Mr. Rosen was too cheap for full time help. The woman only came in twice a week. The ME's preliminary estimate TOD put them dead for at least three days. Three days locked up in a house with the temperatures hovering around eighty. It was days like this Eddie wondered why he didn't listen to his mother and become a stock broker.

"No, whoever did this wanted something," Max said kneeling next to the spot where Claire Rosen's bludgeoned body lay. The wedding picture on the mantel told Max that she had once been very lovely and very young, about Jordan's age. A shiver went up his spine. The carpet under her had once been a nondescript tan. It was now rusty with her dried blood. It was oblivious she had been bound and beaten. He'd be surprised if they found any signs of sexual assault. His gut told him they weren't looking at the handy work of some sick bastard...but a very cunning one.

"Why bind her and not the husband," Max continued pointing at the body of Daniel Rosen just past the archway in the other room. "If you're going for rape and robbery, why leave the husband mobile? The wife would know where the valuable are stored and she'd be easier to control. This was a torture. Whoever did this either wanted information or to send out a message. I want to know who the Mr. Rosen, Esquire, _really_ worked for."

"...Detectives?"

"Max..." Eddie touched Max's shoulder turning their attention to the ME on the case. Eddie had learned quickly that Dr. Yakara was not one to be ignored for any length of time. He'd suck it up and play her game today. He wanted to get through this crime scene as soon as possible.

"Mr. Rosen was killed by a single gunshot to the back of the head. I'll know more once I'm allowed transport," Yakara reported almost daring them to question her at this point.

"...Good" Max replied. "I want a ballistics test run on that bullet as soon as possible..."

"Easier said then done," Yakara said cutting him off. "The bullet has been removed."

"Removed." Eddie repeated looking greener by the second.

"At first I thought the damage to the wound was just...decay. The more I looked the more suspicious I became."

"What are you saying?" Max asked.

"Whoever shot this man took the bullet with them."

The next few days brought a break in the weather as a cool front enveloped the Boston area. Everybody was relieved except Max. One by one, the forensic reports were returning on the Rosen case and they had nothing. Max had nothing except for a file full of usual suspects and nothing to pin them with. It didn't talk long to find out that Daniel Rosen, the escrow lawyer, actually worked for the Irish mob laundering racket money into real-estate. After asking around it was oblivious Rosen was looking to branch out his interests. He began to offer his services outside the family. Max suspected the Russians. With the fall of the Iron Curtain a couple of years prior, the Russian population had exploded in the Boston area ...along with the power of the Russian mob. There was a turf war heating up. Nothing overt, but the body count was starting to rise. Assumptions were all he had. They gave him nothing to go to the DA with and the clock was ticking.

He was mulling his theory over in his mind for the smallest detail when there was a knock on his door.

"Lt. Cavanaugh?"

"Yes."

"I'm Special Agent Burke with the FBI. I'm here about the Rosen murders." Max looked at the man's ID card and realized his week was going from bad to worse.

After a heated fifteen minute conference and one frantic phone call to his captain, Max knew he didn't have a choice but to turn play nice with the Federal Government. He knew it was just a waste of breath to try and convince his boss and Agent Burke there was more to this case than a forced Irish mob retirement. When he pressed Agent Burke about the Russians he only gave Max an obliviously rehearsed reply...

"What dealings the Rosen may or may not have had with the Russian community are totally irrelevant with this case..."

Max pulled what he hoped was a trump card. "Then why are the Feds stepping in on local jurisdiction!" He knew it was desperate...and so did Agent burke by the sympathetic smile on his face.

"I'll keep you updated when I can Lieutenant. Have a nice day."

The door was barely shut behind Agent Burke, when Max reached for the phone. By the time Winslow came back from his dinner break, Max had exhausted all his favors and contacts within the Federal Building and all he had to show for his effort was a sore ear and handful of strong suggestions to leave this one well enough alone. He bet his retirement fund that this case was far bigger than he first suspected.

Max was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice that Jordan had followed Eddie inside the door.

"What are you still doing here Max? I thought you would have gone home by now." Eddie asked quickly. When Max didn't answer right away Eddie pressed, "What's wrong? What happened?"

Jordan, who up to this point had been standing in the doorframe ready to make up some excuse and leave, walked over to her father's messy desk and its remarkably clean edge. As long as her father had a detective's desk, he made sure that same corner had always remained clear for one reason and one reason only. Jordan perched her hip on top.

"It's that case out in Brookline you were talking about last night. Isn't it Dad?"

Max looked up noticing Jordan for the first time. "When'd you get here?"

Jordan didn't chance looking over at Eddie who was trying to look busy at his own desk. She smiled. "A few seconds ago. I came to hang out and see if you have anything new to share on the case." Jordan smiled thinking that it wasn't really that far from the truth.

"Um," Max cleared his throat looking between his daughter and his partner. He felt awkward talking to Jordan about work...at work, even though they discussed the murders at length less then twenty fours before, over a bottle of scotch and homemade chocolate cake. "Ah, no. Actually, we've been pulled..."

"What!" Eddie exclaimed deciding to not look so indifferent. "What do you mean...pulled?"

"The Feds are taking over." Max shrugged.

"There's more to this case than meets the eye and they want it."

For all of Winslow's homicide rookie nativity, Max knew the younger man was thinking the same thing. Max never really spoke out loud his theories on this case being a Russian hit rather than Blackie Conroy and the rest of Cahill's organization cleaning shop.

"But it's your case!" Jordan exclaimed.

"You don't think I'm going to just lie down for this one...Do you darlin'?" Max smiled enigmatically.

Even though Agent Burke had taken the original file with him, he didn't know about the copy Max had in his desk. There was one thing Max Cavanaugh had learned after 30 years on the force. Cover your ass. Max stood up grabbing the copy out of his desk and his suit coat off the back of his chair.

"Did you drive sweetheart?"

"Ah, no..." she said nervously twisting her fingers together in her lap.

"Good. I'll give you a ride home," Max said walking around to take Jordan's hand. "Don't work to late Winslow. I'll see you first thing in the morning. I think we need to go have talk to an old friend of mine about his new neighbors."

Max almost smiled as Eddie and Jordan tried to cover their discomfort at being caught together. Almost. Max wasn't thrilled with the budding attraction developing between his new partner and his young daughter. It's not that Winslow wasn't a good man. It was that Jordan was destined for better things: a career as a heart surgeon and, God willing, a relationship with someone that didn't carry a gun for a living.

Max didn't give Jordan a chance to say anything herself and whisked her quickly out into the hallway. "I'm not going to ask if you've had dinner yet...but I hope you don't mind if we stop for a pizza on the way home."

Meanwhile out in the parking lot, two men sat in a nondescript sedan recording the comings and going in and out of the precinct doors. One checked his watch as Jordan and Max came out of the building, arm an arm, while the other pointed at them with a telephoto camera lens.

"_Pretty girl." I commented something to that affect as they walked out of the police station. When she walked in with Det. Winslow we assumed she was his woman. But you can't assume in our business. Less then thirty minutes later she exited with the detective in charge. The information we had on Lt. Cavanaugh said he had a daughter. If this was the said daughter she could be very useful in controlling both men. I love convenience. It makes our job so much easier. This one was truly lovely. Not that buxom American idea of beauty, like Mrs. Rosen. This one was long and delicate like Russian ballerina. I said I hoped we wouldn't have to use such a creature. Even though we kill for a living, I don't find any enjoyment in the act itself and we never took a life unless necessary. We deal in a service. No more, no less. I looked at my watch one more time and started the car. Special Agent Burke would be enroute to his Chelsea home by now. We had approximately a fifteen minutes window to intercept him between the Federal Building and his wife and children. It was unfortunate she'd be a new widow by morning. There was no choice. Agent Burke had showed his hand to our employer. Our employer wasn't happy. I could only hope the man would not die in vain. Hopefully, at least for the pretty brunette, this next message would be received loud and clear... _


	2. The Beginning of the End 2007

**Chapter Two**

**The Beginning of the End -- 2007**

There was something to be said for Boston in the spring time.

During the winter, snow may blanket the city in such depth that it is measured by feet and not inches…but all of that fades into a distant memory as spring spreads her skirts across the city. Everything was in bloom…tulips, daffodils, trees, bushes…everything that had roots was pushing up blossoms of some sort, or so it seemed.

It had been two years since the sniper shooting. And Woody still didn't take for granted the steps he took unhindered by a wheelchair, walker, or cane. Rehab had been the hardest work of his life. But eight months after he was admitted to Massachusetts General, he _walked_ out of there on his own. It was with a cane, but he _walked_. Walked again when the doctors and all the odds in the medical world said he never would.

That was two years ago this April -- that spring he had spent inside the four walls of a hospital room and then a rehab center looking out. This spring found him back at the Boston shore, running, much like he had with Jordan before the sniper's attack.

He no longer ran with Jordan. As a matter of fact, they no longer did anything together, other than occasionally catch the same homicide calls. When he had thrown her out of his hospital room, he never saw her again, except on work-related issues.

It was over between them. They had both truly moved on. The great, unspoken, acutely anticipated, often high-risk betting odds romance was over. He was seeing a sweet nurse he had met in the hospital…Leighanne Hughes. And from what Woody could tell, Jordan was dating, too. He didn't know who, and really didn't care to. But he did have enough charity in his heart towards her that he fervently hoped she found someone she could admit to loving and mean it…not out of pity, but out of the depths of her heart.

He took a deep breath and pushed himself to go another mile, exulting in the feel of his legs pounding beneath him. Pausing to finally catch his breath, he grimaced when his cell phone rang. Checking the caller ID, he knew it was his office. "Hoyt," he said, into the receiver, knowing he sounded winded.

"Woody? What the hell is going on? You sound out of breath. Did I interrupt something?" It was Framus. Woody knew what was going through Roz's mind.

"You'd sound out of breath, too, if you would get off your lazy, out-of-shape ass and run six miles."

Framus laughed softly into the receiver, relieved she hadn't caught her partner in an intimate moment with Leighanne. "Well, I'm not much of a runner…I'll just stick to my weight lifting and pilates. Anyway, dude, we have shooting at Fifth and Vine. Can you take it?"

"Sure. I'm on my way. Tell me about it."

"Seems that the spring heat is already playing on some tempers. We have a shooter who decided to take out his dislike of the weather on two people in an alley way."

"At Fifth and Vine?"

"Yeah."

I'm there." Woody snapped his phone shut. Fifth and Vine…not the best section of Boston…kind of seedy … a little sinister. The atmosphere could actually be summed up in two words: Mob controlled.

Woody doubted that this was an ordinary shooting.

* * *

Donning his Kevlar and stepping out of his car, Woody quickly took in the chaotic scene. Bystanders…some shocked, some crying…three black and whites…assorted uniforms everywhere. Two bodies, already covered with morgue sheets. Thankfully, no sign of Jordan, but he recognized Nigel and Garret. Woody spoke briefly to the first officer on the scene, then turned his attention to the ME's. "Nigel…Garret…" he greeted them. "What do we have?"

"Small caliber…close range," said Nigel.

"Close range as in to the back of the head," Garret continued. He held Woody's steady gaze.

"A hit?" Woody asked, indicating a mob take down.

"It has all the signs," Nigel said, shaking his head at the repercussions this action could have on this section of mob-controlled Boston.

"Do we have any ID on the victims?" Woody asked, surveying the bullet wounds himself.

"They're clean…no ID…nothing. Their pockets were turned inside out," Nigel answered.

"To make it look like the robbery it probably isn't," said Woody, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Get them back to the morgue and see if you can get a name for me? Please?"

"Sure thing," Nigel answered, assisting Garret in loading the bodies. "I'll give you a call as soon as we know something."

"Hey, Detective Hoyt," called a uniform officer. "Just got a call from Unit 53. They believe they caught the shooter. They're bringing him in now for questioning."

For the first time that morning, Woody smiled. At least something was going right today.

* * *

"What's his name?" Woody asked Framus, as he walked into their offices.

"You mean the alleged shooter?"

"Yeah…"

"According to his own admission and the driver's license he's carrying, he's one Charles Campbell."

"Any priors?"

"A few…nothing violent like this, though. A few B&E's, a domestic disturbance or two, but nothing particularly violent…nothing that would make you think he was capable of this."

"Maybe he moved up the ranks in the mob…"

"You really think this shooting is mob connected, Hoyt?"

Woody shook his head. "It appears to be. I'll find out soon enough. I always do. What interrogation room is he in?"

"Number four."

Woody grabbed the file on Charles Campbell and entered the room. "So…Charles…it seems you've moved up in the world of mob activity. From a little B&E to a little wife beating to a little killing…care to tell me what this is all about?"

Charles remained silent, smoking a cigarette and ignoring Woody, hunched over the table, a dirty blue ball cap on his head and at least two days worth of beard on his face.

"Charles…it's in your best interest to talk to me now…and let me see what I can do with the DA."

"I don't want to talk."

"You're looking at a life sentence. You know that, don't you? We have eye witnesses that can put you at the scene."

Charles nodded. "I know."

"And you don't want to do anything to try to help yourself?'

Charles shook his head. "Look, Detective…you caught me…dead to rights. I admit it. So let's cut through the bullshit. You and I both know I can't say a word…or I won't make it before the judge to get a life sentence. I'll be six feet under before I walk out of this county jail." He flicked his cigarette ashes in the ash tray beside his arm and held Woody's gaze.

The man was speaking the truth. If he ratted out who commissioned the hit, the mob would have him killed one way or the other within days of his confession. Woody sighed. "So why did you do it, Charles…there's nothing in your record that screams mob hit man. A mob burglar, yes…but not a hit man."

Charles flicked his cigarette again and rubbed the stubble on his chin with his other hand. "Call it paying off a debt."

"And you won't tell me anything?"

"Nope."

Woody looked at the alleged perp for a long moment. "Okay, Charles. I'll take what you said to the DA…but she won't go easy on you …I warn you. Walcott can be a bitch."

He was nearly at the door when Charles spoke up again. "Detective…I can't give you the person behind this shooting…but what if I can give you the person behind a 14 year-old murder?"

Woody turned around and walked back to the table. Spinning a chair around backwards so he could straddle it, he leaned both arms on the table. "Okay…you've got my interest…I can't promise anything…that's an old case…but I will take what you tell me before Walcott and see if I can't get her to go easy on you…if this information pans out."

Charles took another long drag off his cigarette before grinding it out in the ash tray. "Good enough for me," he told Woody. "And I guaran-damn-tee it will pan out, Detective."

"Okay…what murder are we talking about?"

"Daniel and Claire Rosen."


	3. Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Chapter 3-

Out of Sight, Out of **Mind**

When Woody demanded she leave his hospital room, and in effect, his life, Jordan had assumed it was just the fear of not knowing what was to become of him. He was angry. His legs lay in front of him in a hospital bed, refusing to move upon reflex or command as if mocking him. They had been strong and reliable, whether chasing down a suspect or slow dancing with Jordan, Woody's legs had always been an advantage for him in a world where he had seemed painfully average otherwise.

Jordan couldn't imagine the devastation he had to be feeling at facing a future without the use of his legs. Guiltily, she also couldn't imagine how he felt having had the woman he loved finally to return his affections….while he lay near death, bleeding and barely conscious on his way into surgery.

Luckily for Jordan, she never pretended to have the best timing.

So she had backed off as he asked, stopped coming around the hospital, at least when he was awake, and only catching news of his long recovery through the ever-flowing office grape vine.

If they had any less communication between them Woody and Jordan would have been sending up smoke signals from opposite mountain tops.

"Hey, Woodrow, what brings you to our dismal little neck of the woods today?" Nigel asked dropping his black Doc Martens from the edge of his desk and unfolding his lanky frame from a small, squeaky, swivel chair.

Woody offered him an uncomfortable smile. "I'm looking for Jordan…" he said with wandering eyes. "She here?" he asked finally, resting his eyes on Nigel's.

"Why? You need to ask her something about a case?" Nigel inquired as he pushed and pulled papers around on his desk looking for the sticky note he'd written a call out on for Jordan. She'd been in using the bathroom when her phone rang.

Woody raised one eyebrow. "No…I've finally broke down and decided to propose marriage. I mean we haven't talked about anything besides a dead body in two years, but I figure, what the hell?" he delivered dryly and Nigel triumphantly raised a hand with the yellow paper stuck to one slender, pale finger.

"Now see that," Nigel quipped. "And some people joked that they'd removed your sense of humor as _well_ as your spleen.." he said handing the paper over. Body…dumpster…McCarthy and 12th. She's been gone about 20 minutes," he said and Woody started off down the hall with an "I owe you one" and a glance at the 12 year-old file he held under his arm.

He punched the down button on the wall and bent backwards cracking his back with a sigh. He'd chide himself for such an 'oldie' move if he didn't know the ache had less to do with his being thirty-something and more to do with the three and a half hours he spent in police storage looking for a file on Daniel and Claire Rosen.

The basics of the case had done little to impress upon Woody. A mob hit, or so it appeared to him. One the unfortunate second or third or fourth wife of a wealthy, disliked attorney and the other, a disliked attorney whose assassin had so little respect for the man he'd killed that he had not only executed him, but had gone further to desecrate the remains by digging a the bullet out of the back of his head.

"Ouch," Woody said aloud, rubbing the back of his head idly as he stepped off of the elevator on the first floor.

"Ouch what?" Jordan said suddenly appearing in front of him.

Once he'd peeled himself off of the ceiling, Woody shook his head. "Jesus, Jordan don't do that," he said holding his chest.

Jordan just shrugged and took the file he was holding, as usual without asking, and flipped it open. She stopped her journey into the elevator when she immediately noticed the names.

"Hey..." Jordan said whipping around with a hand stilling the closing doors. "What are you doing with this?" she asked stepping off of the car and next to Woody.

"This..." Woody said pulling the file back into his own hands and looking Jordan over swiftly, "is what I was coming to find you for…are you through with your call or…or could you come with me somewhere to talk about this case?" he asked, knowing that while reluctant to spend time alone with him after all the skeletons they had crammed into their respective closets, the ME in her couldn't pass up the chance to dig into a good old-fashioned cold case. Especially one she had obviously been so connected to.

"Sure…lunch at Mike's Grill? It's only a block away," Jordan said already starting out the door.

Woody couldn't help but smile. _'There's my girl'_ he thought following behind her when she grabbed the file again and buried her nose in it on her way back outside.

* * *

"…So…" Woody said finishing his soda and crunching a piece of melting ice before he continued. "Do you…and if it's too much or you feel uncomfortable that's fine…do you think you could throw up the flare, see if Max'll come back to help out?" he asked after explaining the deal made with a shooter in prison and his connection to a still open case of Max's.

Jordan sat back in her seat across from Woody in a booth and took in his story for the better part of her lunch break. In return, she told the detective everything she knew from listening to Max and Eddie talk about the case. She was thankful for the multitasking abilities she'd honed in med school as she listened to Woody while simultaneously watching the gestures he made with his hands and the excited way he talked about the possibility of solving this case that spanned over a decade. Even after all he'd been through in the past few years, mostly at her hands, Woody was still a cop excited about his work. Selfishly, Jordan reveled in the brief flashing moments where she would see a spark of the 'farm boy' she had once assumed him to be. And after all that she'd put him through, she knew she should try and help him out with this case.

"Well…" Jordan started with a sigh. "Max and I don't really talk anymore but he sent me a telephone number a year or so ago. It's a pay phone he stops at every Wednesday at 9 pm." She explained with a shrug, still ashamed after all this time that an occasional phone conversation with her father was all the contact they had anymore. "I'll try for you," she said softly, finally meeting Woody's intense gaze.

"Thank you, Jordan. I know how hard it is for you to ask anyone, much less your dad, for a favor…I really appreciate it and I'm glad we can still…kind of be…well… I mean, that we can…" he trailed off gesturing between the two of them and Jordan just nodded with a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah…" she said and before she could stop herself, Jordan blurted out, "I'm sorry for how it got between us…after you were shot and then what I said…how I went about it was just…" she stopped suddenly. Hopefully Woody would think it was because of the shrill chirp of his cell phone ringing in his pocket and not the pained look on his face.

"Sorry…I…excuse me..." Woody said with a nervous laugh as he fumbled for the phone in his pocket and stood from the table when he saw the caller ID. He was only a few feet away, but with the sparse after lunch crowd Jordan could hear his conversation clearly.

"Hey….." Woody said into the mouth piece, his voice intimately soft.

Jordan was sure it couldn't be his captain or even another detective. She had heard Woody was seeing some woman from the hospital over the past year, Maryanne, Suzanne…no, Leighanne. A knot suddenly formed in the pit of Jordan's stomach. Woody was on the phone with his girlfriend and every remaining fiber of her high school self bonded together, bent on assuring Jordan that the knot was in fact, jealousy.

"Yeah….yeah I'm just uhh…I'm meeting with somebody about a case I'm on….uh huh….yeah. No, it's a twelve year-old case so there's no big rush on it, I think I can still come over tonight…" he trailed off with a soft chuckle and shifted from foot to foot. Jordan wasn't surprised to see his ears turn red. "Uh…yeah…that'd…that'd be okay too…" he mumbled and cleared his throat. "Uh huh…yeah…..Yes babe, but I've gotta get back to work….uh huh…..I will…..I will….uh, you, too. Bye." He said and quickly flipped the phone shut before turning and walking back to Jordan, who was busy pretending she hadn't heard the conversation.

"Okay...so you'll call me once you know one way or the other from Max, great..." he said not giving Jordan a chance to answer as he gathered the pages of the file and stuffed them back in their brown folder. "I've gotta get back. I'll uh….I'll see ya, Jordan." Woody stammered out and rushed for the door before she could even get out a single word.

"That went well." Jordan mumbled with a glance at the clock and a shrug. "Well, it's five o'clock somewhere.." she sighed and held up a hand for the waiter as she tried to decide between one finger of Scotch or two.

* * *

It was Friday before Jordan got back to Woody concerning a possible meeting with Max. She had called her father on Wednesday night and he was happy to hear from her…she hadn't called in over a month. Feeling only a little bad for making her first attempt at calling him that month a business call, Jordan was happy to hear Max showing some interest.

"The Rosen case huh?" Max said hesitantly over the phone. "That's dangerous ground to be treadin' on sweetheart…you know what kind of people are involved in that case…" he warned in the fatherly way Jordan had ached for since his absence from Boston.

"Yeah…I know," Jordan started. "That's why Woody asked me to talk to you. He wants to meet with you to go over some things with the case. He saw yours and Eddie's name on it and he feels it's best to go to the source with cases like this and as long ago as it was.." she trailed off when she realized she was rambling. "So…would you? Meet with Woody somewhere?" she asked quietly.

There was a long moment as the detective in Max screamed in his mind at him to jump on the first train to Boston and wrap this case up once and for all. There was another long moment where the father in him imagined every worse case scenario for what could go wrong with this case and more specifically, with Jordan. She didn't know how closely she had been watched on the first go around with this situation. Eddie had been more attentive and watchful of her but as they were dating, Jordan had probably assumed he was going through a gentlemanly phase, walking her to her door more, holding her closer as they walked the streets. She never suspected that pictures had been showing up in the mail to both Max and Eddie. Packages that consisted of pictures of Max and Jordan leaving the station, Jordan and Eddie holding hands around the North End or heading into one of their apartment buildings together. They had decided it was best not to scare Jordan by letting her see the pictures. It was one thing for there to be threatening things sent to them over a case, it was a hazard of the job; but Jordan was an innocent and didn't deserve to be pulled into this.

"Yeah, I'll call you on Friday to let you know when, but tell Woody to be prepared to meet with me at any time in the near future, I won't be giving much of a warning at all when I feel it's safe to come back there okay? Oh and Jordan?" he said seriously with that voice he always used when she was going to a party in high school.

"Yeah Dad….I know, I'll be careful okay?" she said softly. "And thank you for doing this I really appreciate it," she told him awkwardly.

"You're welcome sweetheart. On Friday, wait for my call." He said quietly before the line went quiet and Jordan hung up the phone.

"I will," She whispered again and hung up the phone.

By Friday Woody was anxious to get moving on this case. He wasn't sleeping well at night, he had been snapping at Leighanne, and Jordan's confession at Mike's two days before was still weighing heavily on his mind and conscience.

He cared a lot for Leighanne. She was the only person who seemed to be able to look at him without pitying the poor detective down the end of the hall. She was sweet, she was caring, she was tall and willowy with long, wavy, blonde hair, but most importantly she wasn't Jordan and when he got out of the hospital that had been exactly what Woody was looking for.

They had exchanged numbers in the hospital, but Woody was still going through therapy and getting over all the emotional trauma that followed his being shot. By the time he got up the nerve or the energy to call her it had been nearly eight months and he felt silly to try and get in touch with her after so long. And so he hadn't. But as fate would have it, one night he had gone out for a drink after work to a bar near the hospital, and in walked Leighanne, still in her white scrubs from work.

Woody had offered the stool beside him and Leighanne had declined with a smile and told him a booth was better for his back.

Three hours later they closed out the bar. Woody walked Leighanne home to her apartment only a few blocks away with a promise to call her the very next day. He had and they began going to the movies every once in a while as Woody continued to wean himself of what feelings he still had for Jordan. Movies turned to dinner, dinner turned to take out and movies in each of their apartments and when they were both ready, take out and movies led to breakfast in bed. Woody never mentioned Jordan to Leighanne. In his mind, talking about the one who got away was just as bad, if not worse, than talking about ex's and so he had avoided the topic altogether.

Woody thought he was over Jordan. When he had begun dating Leighanne seriously, he told himself that the Jordan chapter of his life was closed and that he might just be able to settle down with this woman. She was safe, reliable and she could tell him anything. She was everything that Woody thought he wanted in a partner and for the past year she had been.

So on Wednesday night as he lay in bed watching Leighanne sleep, Woody was confused as to why he was suddenly caught up again in thinking about the woman he'd forced out of his sight and mind and her sudden re-appearance in his personal life. He hated doing this to Leighanne. She was a good woman and he cared a lot for her. Just thinking about Jordan as he lay beside Leighanne made Woody feel like he was cheating on his girlfriend. He smiled sadly when she opened her eyes having felt she was being watched.

"Hey you," Leighanne said stretching out beside Woody and watching his face before she decided not to snuggle closer to him. For as long as she had known Woody there was always a 'something' there that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

When he was in the hospital Woody had a frequent nightly visitor. A tall woman with dark hair and even darker eyes that seemed more tormented on each visit she made. The floor nurses had made bets on who she was. They said it couldn't be his girlfriend,

because she only came when he was asleep and she couldn't be his sister because she had looked at him with more than just familial love.

"You know…" Leighanne said propping herself up on one elbow and looking at him critically. "For as long as I've known you and as much as you've told me about yourself…sometimes when I look at you I have absolutely no idea what's going on inside your head," she admitted and reached out to touch his cheek.

Woody closed his eyes and cringed when he saw her slender hand and short nails caressing his cheek on the inside of his eyelids. He opened his eyes again finding long manicured nails and not the honey brown eyes and soft dark curly hair of his dreams, but Leighanne's pleasant blue eyes and lemon blonde waves close to his face.

"You can't ever know _everything_ about a person, Leighanne." Woody sighed and dropped his head backwards onto his pillow. "It doesn't make sense to say you know everything there is to know about someone cause….cause new things happen to them all of the time.." he said rubbing his eyes and folded his hands behind his head.

After regarding his statement for a long moment Leighanne rolled over to rest her chin on his bare chest. "Okay..so what's new Wood?" she asked softly.

Woody felt uncomfortable lying to her. "Nothing really, just thinking more about that case I'm working on, but you know I can't talk about it or anything." He said hoping she'd end the conversation at that.

Leighanne shifted a little beside him and Woody cast his eyes towards the wall. He felt uncomfortable lying and even more uncomfortable when she knew that he was.

"Okay…good night then, Woody. I love you." She said barely above a whisper and he nodded.

"Good night Leigh…you too," He said closing his eyes without turning his head back to her or holding her any closer in his embrace.

"Hey Woodrow…wakey wakey time…" Framus said tapping the toe of a pair of her famous stilettos against his desk.

Woody lifted his head slowly and glared at his partner. "What do you want Roz..." he said more than asked.

"World peace, an end to hunger, and Jimmy Choo Kidskin ankle boots in size 9 wide, but that's neither here nor there.." she said shaking her head. "The naughty night nurse is at the desk, go sign her in," she said thumbing towards the door and Woody popped out of his chair like he'd been sitting on a spring.

"Leighanne's here?" he asked starting for the door already.

Framus just nodded, already having had her attention captured by something else in the room more interesting than her partner's little picket fenced life.

"Hey…sweetie, what are you doing here?" Woody asked striding towards the front desk and grabbing the sign in sheet as Leighanne was fitted with a visitors pass on her shirt.

"Hey you, I brought pizza." She smiled and stood on tip toes to kiss him quickly.

"That's…great Leigh, really it is...but I'm sort of waiting on someone about that case. You know the 14 year-old one I can't talk about?" he asked kissing her back quickly and guiding her towards his office.

"Oh come on Wood, lighten up," Leighanne said with a roll of her eyes and set the pizza down on his desk. "We'll make a party of it. You, me, Roz and whoever it is that you need to talk about this case with…" At Woody's warning glance and the turn of his lip that always let Leighanne know a lecture was coming on she held up a hand. "Don't worry, I'll put on my ear muffs so I don't hear any details about your little case and…"

She stopped in mid sentence when someone cleared their throat at the door and she raised her eyes to meet _those_ eyes again. Those same haunted eyes that had looked after Woody in the hospital several nights a week.

Leighanne was surprised enough to see that same look in those eyes as she'd seen in the hospital, but she was even more surprised to see that 'something' in Woody's eyes that had kept her awake some nights wondering what she'd missed in the stories of his life he'd told her. Her woman's intuition told her that this woman somehow was responsible for that 'something' and as Woody's girlfriend, she felt it was her right to know how she fit into his life.

"Oh..hey…Jordan…this, we're just eating dinner…I thought you were coming by a little late,." Woody said standing and wiping a spot of pizza sauce off of the corner of his mouth.

Jordan took in the sight of Woody and _Joanne, Brianne_, Leighanne and smiled tightly. "Uh, well I was finished early at work and was going to see if you wanted to grab a bite before but apparently you've already…grabbed one so, I'll just…here's that information you needed. I set up that meeting for you and it's going to be tomorrow at 11 pm. The location is in here." She said handing him a folder and backing for the door.

"Oh please, stay and have a slice of pizza…Jordan… is it?" Leighanne asked and turned to hit Woody's arm gently. "Don't be rude Woody, ask her to stay…I'm Leighanne by the way…how do you know Woody?" she asked lightly and sat back on her perch at the corner of Woody's desk comfortably.

"We work together sweetie, she's a ME." Woody explained quickly and hoped Jordan would make a quick retreat.

"Ohhhh like Quincy huh? Oh jeez, I'm sorry bet ya never heard THAT one before..." Leighanne said with a roll of her eyes embarrassedly.

Jordan just shrugged uncomfortably and Woody rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle.

"Ha..yeah, well..I better uhh…I've got to get going, thanks for the offer but I'll take a rain check on the pizza," Jordan said quickly. "It was nice to meet you, Leighanne." She said with a quick wave and hurried down the hall.

"Well…." Roz said around a piece of pizza. "As much fun as it is here in awkward town, I'm sure I've got some new 20 year-old recruit to practice frisking techniques on...I'll uhh….yeah." She said hurrying out the door the same way Jordan had gone.

Leighanne looked back to Woody after watching Jordan leave the room in a rush. That 'look' was still on his face and it finally all clicked for her that this woman had once been very important in her boyfriend's life. Selfishly, she hoped that wasn't still the case.

"I'm just gonna be here a while longer so…so you know don't wait up for me, I might not even make it over tonight with this case and all that…" Woody said pretending to be engrossed in the file he held.

Leighanne watched him for a moment silently before she gathered up their trash and the left over pizza. "Sure…umm..I'll see you tomorrow maybe? We can meet at Starbucks for breakfast like usual?" She said softly, her voice betraying her uncertainty in what was going on between Woody and Jordan with the troubled eyes.

"Yeah, sure, tha…that sounds great Leigh."

"Okay, well don't stay up too late with this case. I'll see you…"

"Yeah…yeah …see you soon…"

"Love you," Leighanne said softly, reaching up to kiss him gently before backing towards the door.

"Yeah…you too."


	4. Scotch, Max, and Cold Cases

**Chapter Four**

**Scotch, Max, and Cold Cases**

_Well, if that wasn't kick in the …_head or ass, Jordan couldn't tell. It was actually her heart that hurt the most after that encounter. Leighanne. Woody. Domestic bliss in a Boston PD detective office. She sighed.

Leighanne was blonde, pretty, willowy…and sweet. God knows Jordan would never invite her boyfriend's….whatever she was with Woody – in for pizza. Jordan sighed again. She guessed it was true. Woody had moved on with his life. Found himself another woman…one completely different from her.

She should be glad for him…especially after the emotional roller coaster ride she put him through over the years. He deserved stability. He deserved happiness. He deserved to be loved.

But did she deserve being rejected the way she was? She knew her timing had been awful. But no one had ever said she had impeccable punctuality. And she wanted him to hear what her heart had to say. _Don't leave me…I do love you, Woody_.

She had meant every word. And he had soundly rejected her. Pushed her out of his life, slammed the door to his heart, and threw on the deadbolt. Other than catching a few of his calls here and there, she never saw Woody any longer.

And now she knew the personified reason why. _Leighanne._

Jordan lowered her head, stuffed her hands in her pockets, and walked across the street to her El Camino, the events of the last few minutes still swirling around in her head. She rested her head on the steering wheel a few moments before starting her truck and heading out into the Boston five o'clock traffic. When Woody had begun to pick her brain about this case, she knew it was going to be difficult on her because it involved the three men in her life she had issues with. The first and foremost being her father. God knows they had enough issues to open their own magazine publishing company.

But then there was Eddie. A man from her deep past she had seen several times since their break up, but not in recent years. Eddie had moved to Springfield. She hadn't seen him in …. What….four or five years? Her brow wrinkled in concentration as she tried to catch up on the time that had flown by. Eddie hadn't stuck around very long in Boston after Jordan had given him his packing papers and Woody began to circle her romantic radar as a faint blip on the screen.

Now Eddie would have to be contacted and would probably have to return to Boston. Jordan had idly wondered several times over the years how he was doing – whenever she would pick up an old case file with his name on it or pass by his former office in the precinct. She never called to see….and Eddie had never called her after he moved. When he had left, she attended his good-bye party. They had hugged awkwardly and Eddie had whispered in her ear, "I still love you, Jo. If you ever need me, I'm as close as the phone. Do you hear me?"

She had nodded, still a little too emotional to talk. She had lightly touched his cheek with her lips, hugged him again, and left the man she would have sworn at one time she was destined to marry. Instead, as soon as she had found out Eddie had ratted out her father, Jordan had put him to the curb. At the time she felt justified. After all, Max was her _father_.

Later though, as the years slipped by, she realized just how justified Eddie had been….especially after her father's behavior came to light. She had thought about calling him then….apologizing one more time…telling him that he had been right all along.

But she hadn't.

So now she was peripherally involved in an old case with three men that had all broken her heart in different ways. She chuckled bitterly to herself as she pulled into the Sav-Way parking lot to pick up some groceries. How much more lucky could she get?

* * *

Woody nervously tapped his foot against the floor of a seedy, out-of-the-way bar on the wharf. Max had sent word through Jordan that this was where he would meet the detective. And Woody could see why Max would have chosen such a place….off the beaten path…secluded. Off the sights of anyone who may be looking or gunning for a Boston detective and an informant.

"Want another beer, honey?" asked the waitress…a washed-out blonde, well past her prime.

"No. I think some Scotch may be more in order," said a voice behind her. "Johnnie Walker….please." The waitress nodded and went to comply. Woody stood and greeted Max.

"Mr. Cavanaugh…."

"Max. We've been through too much for you to call me Mr. Cavanaugh, son."

_Evidently Jordan hasn't told him we're not talking right now…_Woody thought and nervously pulled at his collar. "Max….how have you been?"

"Good. You've recovered from your injuries?"

_Jordan did tell him about that_… "Yes, sir."

"Fully?"

Woody nodded.

"Feelin' good? Everything functioning?"

Woody felt the irritation grow under his collar again. "Yes, sir. Why?"

"Because you're going to need everything you've got….and everything I've got….and everything Eddie has… to pull this all together, solve the case, and get the bastards behind bars that belong there. And then they need to….they'll have to….stay there. Do you understand?"

Max's tone of voice held a note that Woody had never heard out of him before. Not even through Malden and all of that deadwood. It was a tenor of fear…remorse….and raw determination that Woody had never felt come out of the older man. The fear especially. Max had his full attention now. "Yes, sir," he replied again.

"Show me what you got, Woody." Woody slid the case file across the table and sat silently sipping his Scotch as the older man put on his glasses and read through his old police file and then read Woody's newer one involving Charles Campbell. "Interesting…interesting." Max slipped his glasses off and shoved them in his shirt pocket. "All I got to say, Woody, is that if all the dots connect, you've got yourself one hell of a case.

"The Rosens…Me and Eddie knew it was a mob hit the minute we began to investigate. Winslow was a little slower to come around….he was new and green, then…but once we saw the bullet was dug out of Mr. Rosen's head…that pretty much cinched it. All the years I had been on the force…and the toughest mob I had to deal with was Blackie Conroy. Not that Blackie wasn't bad enough, God rest his soul….but with home-grown mobs, you knew who you were dealing with and just how bad they are. There were also some areas that were sacred to them…Whenever I had to deal with Blackie, as long as I was honest with him….didn't try to trick him…or pin something on one of his men that they didn't do…I was safe…my family was safe.

"Then these Russians began to move into Boston during the late eighties and early nineties. Different group of folks. Where as Blackie and the Irish mob would try to bully you first into doing what they wanted….these guys would just as soon kill you as look at you. Family…honor….meant nothing to them. They were solely after the bottom line. There is honor among thieves, Woody. And these guys had no honor. They were ruthless…."

Woody was silent for a moment. "So….what set them off? All I can come up with from your old case file and talking the Campbell….and picking Jordan's brain, is that this hit seemingly came out of nowhere….and was just as quickly swept under the rug. She can't remember you even talking about it again…you or Eddie either one…or even answering her questions about the case …"

"Leave Jordan out of this," Max said so sharply that Woody's eyes grew big. The older man looked agitated for a moment. Then lowering his voiced and leaning closer across the table, he spoke again. "Like I said. I knew it was a hit. And when I had it confirmed with a mole I had in the Irish mob, it began to make sense…too much sense." Max paused and swallowed the rest of the Scotch in his glass, letting the burn of the whiskey calm his nerves and loosen his tongue. "I knew the Irish mob never dug bullets out of their victims. They mimicked the New York Italian mobs….a touch to the head….and leave the scene. My informant told me as much…that they would never stop at a scene long enough to dig a bullet out of a body….they'd stop and pick up casings, sure, but never try to find a bullet.

"What he did tell me…scared the hell out of me. It seems Rosen was working both sides of the street. He was an attorney for the Irish mob. He had helped them launder racket money into real estate in South Boston for over twenty years. The Russian mob wanted in on the action. So our friend Rosen decides that greed is his new motivation, not survival. In return for a large cut from the Russians, Rosen would rat out the Irish mob.

"The only problem was that the Russians said no. So now…trailing back up the other side of the street, Rosen goes to Blackie and tells them what he knows about the Russian mob…that these new immigrants want South Boston for their own and was ready to boot Blackie and his boys out. Rosen tells Blackie he can be helpful in controlling the Russians…but for a larger fee than he was being paid to launder their dirty money.

"Great idea….except that Blackie refused to play Rosen's game. He cuts him off completely. Tells Rosen he'll get someone else to clean up his racket money….So left with no income to support his lifestyle…and a hot, new, third wife with expensive tastes, he does the only thing he can do…"

"Turn informant with the FBI…" Woody concluded softly, the case beginning to add up in his head.

"You got it," Max said, leaning back in the booth. "That was my hunch…my theory."

"Then why isn't it in your file?"

Max shut his eyes and sighed. He had sincerely hoped that this case was buried….so deeply it would never see the light of day again. But like the rest of the lies in his life he had tried to hide, this one came glaring to the surface, too…endangering the people he loved and cared about.

Sighing heavily again, he continued. "My informant…the mole in the Irish mob…wouldn't confirm or deny my suspicions. He did warn me….in the strongest of terms…to leave the case the hell alone. Through my years in the force, me and this guy had built a solid friendship….and the mole had enough ties to know what he was talking about. He told me that not only did the Irish mob know about my dealings with Cahill, but so did the Russian mob. It was in my very best interests that I not only left the case alone, but buried it deep.

"I was younger then Woody. Still full of myself and brass. I thought to myself, _hell no…I'm not leaving this one alone…_and then these started arriving regularly at my office." Max pulled a thick packet from his jacket pocket and slid them across the table to Woody. "Open that and then tell me what you would have done."

Woody carefully lifted the flap of the thick manila envelope and took out a stack of pictures….pictures of a younger Jordan…with her dad…..driving her car….jogging through the park, coming out of the dorm at UMass….Jordan with _Eddie Winslow?_ Woody swallowed hard….Jordan and Eddie holding hands at the North End…coming out of a restaurant…going into an apartment together…

"How…how often did you get these?" he asked Max through dry lips.

"Sometimes once a week….sometimes several times a week. Eddie and I both wanted to go after these guys, but we both agreed that risking Jordan's life made it a non-issue. I wanted to protect my daughter and so did Winslow."

"Did Jordan ever know?"

"No…neither Eddie nor I wanted to frighten her. We just kept a closer eye on her…and with Jordan that's sometimes not easy." Max chuckled as he remembered. "She kept wanting to know why I needed her to come home from school every weekend. Why I called her six times a day and kept admonishing her to be careful.

"It was easier with Eddie. He and Jordan were dating….although both of them went out of their way to keep that little fact from me. I had the 'blue-boundary' up at my house since Jordan turned fifteen. A hell of a lot of good it did me…Eddie knew that…that I didn't want my little girl dating cops…so they tried to keep it from me. A lot of good that did them. I knew from the minute Eddie came back to work one afternoon and his jacket carried the scent of Jordan's perfume…." Max smiled at the memory of a twenty-something Jordan in love for the first time. "So when Eddie paid her closer attention…showing up at the university at odd times….holding her hand…pulling her close….walking her to classes occasionally, she thought nothing of it….thought he was just showing her his true feelings….which he was. That part of this case was no hardship for Eddie. God, the boy loved her…the extra time with her was heaven for him."

"So when did it stop – the pictures, I mean. When did you stop getting them in the mail?"

"Eddie and I threw up a flare that we were getting ready to close the books on it and bury the case. Shortly after that, the pictures stopped coming."

"And everything went back to normal?"

"Pretty much. Of course, Eddie and Jordan still dated. They dated several years…until Eddie reported me…" Max's face grew distant at the memory. Jordan had been loyal to her father. "She chose family over love, Woody," Max said softly. "If she hadn't…if she had gone with her heart then, I'd probably be a grandfather several times over…instead of waiting on you and her to make up your minds…" Max looked at Woody hopefully.

He knew it was time to come clean with the older man…"Ah, no…sir. Jor and I…well, right before the shooting things sort of went south with us…and ah….ah…we're not exactly….uh…"

"You're not seeing each other right now," Max said flatly.

"Uh…no."

"Okay, Hoyt….then I'm going to spell it out for you. I don't want my little girl in danger this time, either. Jordan is still pretty much oblivious to the details of this case. And I want it kept that way for her own safety. No matter what you're feelings are towards Jordan now, don't drag her into this, Hoyt. I heard that you told her to get out of your life while you were in the hospital. I also heard you hurt her like hell. I don't care what you think of her or feel for her….just protect her, do you understand?

"You need to call Winslow in on this, too. I have his number," Max fished a piece of paper out of his pocket and crammed it in Woody's outstretched hand. "You need him here. Jordan needs him here. If my memory serves correctly, once you start digging around, the Russians may very well target Jordan again…she's the link between all three of us, and despite whatever feelings she has for either you, me, or Winslow…it won't take them long to figure out that we all three still have feelings for her. Makes her the perfect bull's eye for any manipulation they would like to plan.

Eddie can and will help you keep an eye on Jordan. He'll be glad to. He's in Springfield, but I've already told him about all of this. He's waiting for your call."

* * *

It was well-past midnight when Woody had finally told Max good bye and drove back towards his apartment, where he knew Leighanne was probably still sitting up for him…waiting on him to come home despite his admonishments for her to go to bed. He ran a hand down his tired face as he continued to digest what Max had told him.

The problem was he was now connecting this hit with several other homicides across Massachusetts that were missing a bullet that had been dug out of a body. The inquiry he had posted on the internet had yielded him a half a dozen similar cases. The files were arriving daily via snail-mail.

If this was true…if it all panned out…Jordan could indeed be in more danger than she realized. Woody knew Max didn't want her to know anything…but if he kept hanging around her…she'd want to know why. And Jordan was far too bright not to notice if Woody put an undercover on to her as a tail.

He sighed as he parked the car. As much as he hated to admit it….Winslow might be his best bet in keeping her safe, depending on how well Jordan took to him coming back to Boston for a while. His gut tied itself in a responding knot.

He had never known before tonight that Jordan and Eddie had such an intimate past. So if the wind had blown right, she could be Mrs. Eddie Winslow now. He shook his head. He would have never guessed.

Hell…he would have never wanted to. Despite the years and distance between himself and Jordan, he couldn't see her belonging to anyone but him….Woodrow Wilson Hoyt. Eddie returning to Boston might correct this vision.

Woody doubted it. And he'd bet any money the knot that was tightening his gut wasn't because of too much Scotch.

It was jealousy.


	5. Eddie's Back

Chapter Five

Eddie's Back

The first thing Captain Eddie Winslow noticed when he walked into his old offices at police headquarters was the smell. The Boston Police department had its own unique smell. He couldn't put his finger on it but it was something and it made him feel a little nostalgic. He'd heard that smell is one of the strongest senses linked to memory. He didn't doubt it. In fact, standing there in the middle of his old stomping grounds he half expected to see his old boss, Captain Malden, to come out of the elevator on his way to a four martini lunch with whoever's ass he was kissing that week. Only Malden was dead. Shot at pointblank range in Jordan Cavanaugh's apartment and she was, and as far as he knew still is, suspect. What a mess.

Eddie didn't know the details until after the fact. A couple of detectives came out to Springfield to escort one suspect back to Boston. It made him feel sick just thinking about it now. When he left Boston almost a decade ago he swore he'd keep in touch. He sent Jordan a birthday card that first year and she sent him a Christmas card. After that it seemed like there was never a good time to re-connect. The Springfield Police Department hired him to be the head of there Homicide/Robbery division. It was a perfect fit. After everything that had happened with Max, his stock with the Boston PD had hit an all time low. Even as a lieutenant, he found himself answering calls. It's not that he didn't mind being the lone detective doing the grunt work back on the streets, but those few times inevitably had him working with the newly rehired Dr. Cavanaugh. Working with her was awkward at best when they were still together. But when she left in the middle of the night only to return five years and one IAD investigation later, working with her again made everything else seem like a cake walk.

So when Springfield opened up it seemed like a win/win situation all the way around.

Now, almost a decade later, he was a captain. He had to take a small egotistical moment and look around the big, empty, marble, and brass lobby with a jaded eye as if to say, _'Look at me now._'

Eddie pulled out his ID and located the desk sergeant to check in. The faces had changed but the questions hadn't. They asked him his business and whom he was contacting while conducing said business.

"I'm here about a cold case I worked while still with the department. I have a meeting with Detective Phil Berman in the cold case stacks at ten."

Eddie had to chuckle a little thinking about Phil Berman. Somehow he figured the man would be stuck in a basement someplace where he couldn't do any damage. He never worked with him much, but that didn't stop Phil's reputation from finding its way across his desk. From what he could remember what Berman lacked in social skills was made up in his police work. He was a reasonably good detective when he wasn't being brought up on harassment charges. Eddie clipped on his visitor's badge and entered the elevator where he pushed the button for the basement a little more than curious to see if something's never changed.

* * *

Meanwhile, Jordan was riding an elevator herself. Only hers was going up, returning to the ninth floor after spending a good portion of her valuable morning down in the basement record room of the morgue. The reopening of the Rosen case had peaked her interest, not just because it was keeping her in daily contact with Woody -- reminding her of old times -- but because it was a case that had bothered her back when her father was the detective in charge. It wasn't like her father didn't occasionally shelter her from the facts of his career, but this time it was different. One day they were sitting in the kitchen discussing the details...like they did with cases he needed an outsiders view on. The next he told her to leave it alone, to forget about it, and never speak of it again.

It bothered her enough to press her then boyfriend, Eddie, about it. She knew what buttons to push with him. In those days Eddie was so easy. All she had to do was to ask in him in that special way and he was butter. In this case she was wrong. Dead wrong. For weeks he was moody and possessive. To the point where Jordan had asked for them to slow it down -- even suggesting they should start seeing other people. Eddie's answer was to become even clingier. At the time she had just chalked it up to the long, hot summer. In hindsight she wondered if it something more to do with the Rosen case. She knew it got to him just as much as it had gotten to her father.

Jordan looked down at the two zipper folders in her hands. It was everything the morgue had on the case. It took her two hours to find them, along with the tissue samples stored in the freezers. It wasn't a secret that Yakara didn't like to dirty her hands doing her own menial labor. She relied on others to do her office work and, as such, it sometimes led to less than efficient filing skills. Jordan suspected it had less to do with the filer's inability to cross reference then it had to do with Yakara's popularity.

Her fingers itched to get inside. She did take a quick look to make sure she had the right files before she left the stacks. She didn't see anything different than she had already read from the files kept in the cabinets on the main floor. From experience she knew the coroner's files, which were the one's in her hand, were infinitely more detailed. The legal forms had very little leeway in expressing opinion or speculation. Yakara, for all her faults, was tedious in her coroner copy reports. Jordan could only hope she was as longwinded in this case.

* * *

It took Eddie a few minutes to find Berman's desk in amongst files and boxes that had open cases on everything from murder to peeping toms that dated back two centuries. If it weren't for the soft strains of an old Michael Buble song leaking out from underneath the equally old headphones over Phil's ears, Eddie might have missed him all together. Berman's desk was strategically placed so he could see the entrance to the office way before the person walking in could. If he was looking to not be caught playing video poker on his computer, then he should think about turning the music down.

"Detective Berman?" Eddie said clearing his throat.

Phil jumped at the sound of someone standing in front of his desk. He quickly changed the page on his computer screen. Phil looked up not happy having his IM conversation with _HONEYBUN44_ cut off just when it was starting to get good.

Although, he was surprised to see it was Lt. Winslow, the snitch, standing there. The last time Phil had heard Winslow had quit to go investigate lawnmower thefts in Mayberry or someplace as equally boring. As far as Phil was concerned Winslow leaving the city was just what he deserved.

"Lieu-ten-Ant Winslow," Phil drawled making no attempt to stand up. Eddie maybe a superior officer, but the joys of being banished to the cold case stacks is there was nobody there to yell at him for it. "...what can I do for you?"

"It's Captain Winslow and I have an appointment with you," Eddie glared.

Phil made a point to look at his blank daytimer. Eddie looked over the edge of the desk and noticed the date was three days prior. He took it upon himself to flip the pages and point to a scrabbled note saying _'Springfield Dick'_ over a stain that look suspiciously like barbeque sauce.

"...Oh," Phil smiled sheepishly. "Right. What can I do for you...Captain?"

"Rosen... July of 93... Daniel and Claire..." Eddie said keeping it as simple as possible.

"Rosen?" Phil thought out loud. "Husband and wife right? I think Detective Hoyt reopened _that_ case a few weeks ago."

'_No shit Sherlock' _Eddie thought to himself. He sighed and murmured, "Yes."

It wasn't a surprise to hear it was Hoyt that had been the one that reopened the case. His name came up when he talked to Max a few days prior. When Max called Eddie and asked for a favor, he made short order of taking a leave of absence to work the case. It wasn't necessary. He could have turned over everything he knew in a few conference calls. Eddie wanted this. After all...he owed it to the man.

"I need the name of the new D.I.C. on the case," Eddie continued.

Phil looked at Eddie like he had two heads and than said very slowly and very distinctly like he was talking to a small child. "Detective Hoyt reopened the case a few weeks ago."

"So you are saying Hoyt is the DIC."

"In more ways than one."

Secretly Eddie wished it was somebody else. It's not that he had anything against Hoyt, except for the fact that when he blew into town, was instantly christened the new golden child and before Eddie could snap his fingers, Hoyt was spending more than his fair share of time with the Cavanaugh family.

It wasn't like Jordan and he had anything anymore. They had both moved on more than once and in more than one way. It was just ironic how those old feelings still hung around. When she was gone, he thought they were gone. It didn't take long to realize they had just gone underground for awhile.

Working with both Jordan and Hoyt was not what he had signed on for...but closing a case that had haunted him for close to fifteen years was. He'd have to suck it up and work with a ghost and ...a dick.

Eddie did have to smile, "Yes, well, be that as it may...where can I find him? If I remember right he used to be with the nineteenth..."

Phil looked at the logbook. "Yep, the nineteenth. Do you need directions?"

"No," Eddie said. After saying his thanks Eddie made his way back to the main lobby. "...No," he whispered to himself, "I don't need directions."

_Just one more happy coincidence,_ Eddie thought. When he first got his detective's shield he was with the new golden child nineteenth

* * *

Jordan restlessly tapped her fingernails on the handset of Woody's desk phone and debated on whether or not what she had found in the old files was important enough to interrupt his lunch. Framus had just finished telling her that she had just missed him. She said something about _Nurse Betty_ stopping by.

Not that long ago Jordan wouldn't have thought twice about interrupting his lunch. Not that long ago _she_ would be the one eating lunch with him. Unsure, Jordan asked Roz if she thought it would be alright to call. Roz just snorted and said any interruption would be a good thing where those two were concerned. It was apparent Roz did not find her partner's girlfriend a person worth her time...or his.

'_Or mine,'_ Jordan thought to herself after Roz had to turn her attention away to answer her own phone. If Woody didn't like it he could add it to the list of things he hated about her.

_Leighanne_, Jordan mused.

Roxanne, Maryanne, Annemarie... Why do parents give their daughters obnoxious names like that? What if she wanted to be an astrophysicist or a Supreme Court judge? Cutesy names begot cutesy names. She could see the birth announcement now: _Dolly Madison Hoyt. _The thought made her punch in the digits of his cell number in with a little more force then necessary.

"Still as mad at the world as ever I see...huh, Beautiful?"

Jordan hadn't heard that endearment in longer than she cared to remember. The soft, familiar twang made Jordan's head snapped up. She quickly hung up the phone before the second ring.

"Eddie," she smiled.

Eddie Winslow hadn't changed much since he left Boston. A couple more grey hairs and maybe a few more lined on his face, but other then the more expensively tailored suit, he looked like the same old Eddie.

"How have you been, Eddie?"

He gave her that smile that used brighten her day every time she saw it. The real one. Not the Lt. Winslow smile, but the one that went all the way to his eyes. The one that once made her heart flip.

But that was then and this was now.

"I've been good Jordan. You look as beautiful as ever."

Jordan felt her cheeks color. Eddie was the only man that ever called her beautiful. Even after all these years he could make her blush. He was her second...the first one to really count. He was the first and only man to make her really _feel _beautiful and even after all those years and after all they've been though, he still had the ability to make her feel that way just with a smile.

Self-consciously, Jordan pushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "Thanks."

Framus hung up the phone with a loud squeal and launched herself in Eddie's unsuspecting arms and peppered his face with a multitude of blood-red kisses. "Lover, you came back me!"

Jordan arched an eyebrow at the display that was attracting a little more attention than the usual Framus outbursts normally did.

Roz let go and planted her hands on her hips and studied Eddie as if he were a pair of Kate Spade's she was thinking about buying.

"Damn, you're a sight for sore eyes," she said reaching up to straighten his tie and smooth back his hair. "I like the grey. Keep it. It's sexy."

"Roz. Long time, no see."

"Is that all you have to say to me?" Roz said in a mock offense. With a dramatic sigh she winked at Jordan, "Husbands..."

Jordan other eyebrow reached the first one and her jaw opened as she looked between the two. Framus took one look and doubled over in laughter.

"Shut your mouth Jo-Jo. You look like a fish. We weren't married legally," Roz said leaning into Eddie and rubbing some of the lipstick off his face with her thumb. "...but our little trip to Vegas looked authentic enough. You see, Eddie and I worked undercover as financially challenged husband and philandering wife for a rackets sting back in 2000. All due respect to your father and all, but Eddie was best partner I ever had. Then he had to go and make rank and leave me behind. That's always been my luck with men. The good ones always leave me wanting more."

Oddly relieved, Jordan chuckled. She knew Framus came to the nineteenth homicide from the organized crime unit a year or two after Woody was hired. Jordan added it up in her head and realized Framus' time there corresponded to Eddie leaving, the then violent crimes unit, after the mess with her father. Eddie dropped off the map for a year or so and surfaced again when Homicide became its own division. It goes to figure he do something as dangerous as undercover with the mob.

"Baby, how long are you in town? Please say it's permanent." Roz clucked while clamping her hand around Eddie's face making his lips pucker out.

She let him go when he shook his head. "No, I'm just here to follow up on a lead in a cold case I once worked."

"Well, damn." she shrugged. "You are going to be in town for at least the night aren't you?" Without waiting for him to answer Roz grabbed her phone and punched in a number. "Good, then dinner at The Living Room, my treat -- let's say eightish...no make that nineish. I've got a nail appointment."

Roz dismissed him while she negotiated for a reservation at one of the trendiest restaurants in town. Eddie just chuckled rubbing the back of neck knowing it was impossible to sway Roz Framus out of anything.

"I guess I got until nine to get caught up on the case. Where's Hoyt?"

Jordan looked at the phone trying to remember what she was doing before Eddie walked back into her...

...in the door.

"He's, um, having lunch...I don't know when he'll get back."

Eddie looked at his watch and heaved a sigh. Jordan couldn't tell if it was not of disappointment for not getting started right away...or relief.

"Have you had lunch yet?"

Jordan blinked twice and said no. Eddie didn't know her lunches for the last two years were more often than not a sleeve of crackers out of the vending machine. She smiled. Why not?

"Lunch sounds great."

Leighanne tossed her hair over her shoulder and picked up her speech where she had left off.

"...I just think it's time. You've been in the same division for six years. It's time to do something different. Don't they rotate people around to different departments like they do in the hospital? Look at yourself. You're burned out. I don't think you've really slept in days. You're not talking you're not eating. Something's got to give. This last case has been the worst. I want to you to do what you have to do to get it reassigned. Maybe we should take a vacation. I know money's tight right now I'm sure we can go visit my family in Maryland again. I promise it will be better than last time. They really like you, Woody. I know they don't _act_ like it but I'm sure they like you. It'll be fun. Just wait and see..."

Woody wadded the uneaten half of his sandwich up in the wrapper and picked up his drink wishing it were something stronger than 7-UP. He knew Leighanne was talking but he felt like he was in one of the Peanuts cartoons. All he could hear was 'w_ah, wah wah._' It seemed like that's all he heard the last few weeks.

The hangover that he had been nursing was still pounding at the back of his eyes. Woody had gone out of his way to not have to work with Jordan very much since coming back to active duty after the shooting. On those few occasions he had to, he found solace on the mindless end of a bottle of Jack Daniels. This case wasn't an exception. In fact, this case seemed worse.

Not only had this case dropped Jordan back into his lap, but was dragging Eddie Winslow back to town. Woody knew the man had something against him. It was like Winslow hated him before they even ever had a chance to meet. No matter how hard he tried to be friendly, the colder Winslow became. After awhile Woody just quit. At the time he had no idea that he and Jordan were once lovers. _That_ Woody wanted to be everybody's friend. _This _Woody didn't care if he won any popularity contests and he could care less what Eddie Winslow thought of him as long as he could help solve this case.

So, it felt like he could physically conger up the visions of his latest drunk when he looked up and to see Winslow and Jordan walk in the door. They were laughing. Jordan was using a tissue to wipe something off Winslow's jaw. If Woody were a gambling man, which _this_ Woody was, he'd bet she was wiping lipstick off. The thought made him groan out loud.

Leighanne stopped chatting on about the little house she saw in the Sunday paper and followed Woody's line of vision. She tossed her napkin on the table...her appetite gone.

"Let's go. We can leave out the back," she announced. "It's obvious she not here for work and just seeing her upsets...you so."

Woody stood up, but not to leave. Years later he would run the scene through his head and wonder just why he jumped up to catch the other couple's attention. He ran his hand through his hair and stood there debating what to do next.

"Woody! What did you do that for?" Leighanne hissed as Woody looked directly at the other couple. "Now they're going to come over here and we won't be able to leave."

Woody rolled his eyes and turned back to his girlfriend. "They're working on this case with me. Winslow came into town specifically to help."

"Good," she huffed folding her arms under her chest. "Then he can take over. Tell him you want out."

"...What?" Woody asked incredulously.

"Haven't you heard a word I've said! I want you off this case and...and away from _her_!"

Woody still looked confused.

"Damn it, they're coming this way. I'm leaving." Leighanne stood up and grabbed her bag. "Let's go."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"If you love me, you'll come with me right now."

"...Leighanne."

His voice surprised her. She was expecting at least a token plea and then compliance. Instead what she got sounded more like a warning. Leighanne held her ground. They were still staring at each other, in a battle of wills, when Eddie and Jordan got within greeting range.

"..Hi," Jordan said tentatively and glanced at Eddie for support. "If this is a bad time we can ..."

"Apparently, your timing is perfect Dr. Cavanaugh," Leighanne replied in a saccharin voice. With as much dignity as she could muster, Leighanne pushed past Eddie with a mumbled, "Excuse me."

"Woody, Eddie and I can go over there if you need to..." Jordan said softly.

"...No," Woody cut her off watching Leighanne walk out the door. He should be upset or at least mad. Instead, he felt nothing and it scared the hell out of him.


	6. Goodbye

**Chapter Six**

**Good-bye **

"So you're saying Yokura thought all along that this was a two man job? So why was that never reported in the case or…or the autopsy reports?" Woody asked, dropping his feet from his desktop where he and Jordan had been catching Winslow up on the recent developments in the case…and some old ones that Jordan had just mentioned.

Jordan removed the stirrer she'd been chewing on for the better part of an hour from her mouth, the coffee taste long since gone from the plastic stick.

"Well, because Woodrow," she said sarcastically, as she tossed the little straw in the trash. "investigating is the job of the detectives and Yokura is an M.E. She's not up for any personality awards, but she trusted the opinion of Dad and Eddie," she said offering Eddie a weak smile.

Eddie piped in after nodding in agreement with Jordan's statement. "Well, that and if you knew Dr. Yokura you'd know she'd just as soon break into show tunes as admit she's wrong. So she never put anything in writing, just mentioned her suspicions to Max and myself off the record," Eddie said giving Jordan a lopsided smile.

Jordan laughed at the comment about Dr. Yokura and so did Eddie. Woody sighed and fought the urge to roll his eyes as it became painfully obvious that as far as seniority went, he was the third wheel on this case. Not only that, but it relit the neon sign in the back of his head reminding him that Jordan and Winslow had history. He fought the urge to check Roz's bottom left hand drawer for a flask.

"Yeah, well…since I reopened this case and talked to Campbell, I've had some suspicions of my own…I'd like to re-question him and see if I get anywhere…maybe I can pull him in here tonight.." Woody mused and stretched, as he looked at his watch. It was already 10:30. Leighanne would be curled up in front of a Lifetime movie crying and burning pictures of them together by now.

"Well…I think it's a little late in the evening to be doing that why don't you…" Eddie started and Woody put up a hand. He didn't need Eddie Winslow telling him how to do his job right now. And he certainly didn't need to go home to an empty apartment and toast his floundering love life with a case of Heineken. Or worse yet, he didn't need to go to Leighanne's place and have her yell and cry until the wee hours of the morning.

_All do respect – bullshit, _Woody thought. "I think I've got this under control _Captain_…besides," Woody said tugging his coat around his shoulders and fixing his tie. "I've always liked the element of surprise," he concluded, reaching for the phone to have Campbell pulled from his cell for a little late night chat.

* * *

"That guy's a real asshole, you know that?" Eddie said to Jordan as they walked out to their cars a few minutes later.

"Woody….Woody's just trying to do his job.." Jordan lied and stuffed her hands into her coat pockets. "He's usually not disrespectful like this, but ever since he was shot.." she trailed off shaking her head.

"Oh come on Jordan, he was shot what? Two years ago?…There's only so long the wounded hero bullshit will hold water…" Eddie argued rubbing his hands together and blowing between them for warmth. "Not to mention he knows it'll work with you.." he said raising his eyebrows for the first time hinting at the relationship he'd suspected between Jordan and that…Hoyt.

Jordan sighed. "That was a long time ago," she said looking off across the street as a cold wind blew a strand of hair in front of her face and she flicked it away quickly.

Eddie nodded and looked off in the opposite direction. "So there _was_ something between you two…I had heard the rumors but frankly, I took it with a grain of salt…I figured they couldn't be true, I knew you'd chew that perky, wise-ass SOB up and spit him out.." he stopped and looked her over amused. "Oh, tell me you did. Please, please tell me you did. It'll make working with him that much more bearable," he begged teasingly, but stopped when he saw the look on her face.

"Nah…nah … it wasn't exactly like that…well I mean, you know me, of course I did a number on him…but uhhh…we never really dated exactly…." she said and shifted uncomfortably, feeling like she'd said too much already.

"So what did you do?" Eddie asked and then raised a hand. "Sorry…it's really none of my business…once upon a time, maybe it was, but it's not my place to ask anymore," he said with a tight smile and turned towards his car. "I'll catch you later Jordan. It's really been nice seeing you again. I hope next time it's under different circumstances.." he smiled and turned his back to her, heading for the car.

"…I fell in love with him." Jordan said suddenly, stopping Winslow cold in his tracks. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Jordan Cavanaugh didn't fall in love easily. When she did however, it was usually the result of a pretty serious relationship.

"So you _were _dating him," Eddie said quietly and turned around.

Jordan had the sense to at least laugh. "No…uh..no, we didn't, It just sort of..happened..." she stammered out and waved a casual hand. "Well, you know me…I never do anything the easy way," she joked and looked towards her car. "But I … uhh…I messed it up…" she told him and turned her eyes towards Eddie, remembering how she'd left things with him. The ache she had felt for leaving Eddie like she did gave Jordan a sudden blaring realization of what Woody must have felt those few years ago lying in a hospital bed, his legs paralyzed and his ears burning with her untimely profession of love.

"I'm really good at dicking up the relationships I actually want to make work aren't I?" she asked rhetorically and looked at her feet as Eddie just stared at her with one of those looks that had always made her weak in the knees.

"Well, anyway…I'll let you know if I find anything…I'll see you tomorrow after you talk to Woody about what he pounds out of Campbell tonight," she said with a dry laugh and quickly got into her car.

Eddie watched her drive off, no longer noticing the cold biting into his limbs. Jordan had been in love with Woody Hoyt, the golden boy of the nineteenth precinct. And even after over a decade after having dated Jordan, a part of him wondered jealously if she still was.

* * *

It was nearly three am when Woody finally got out of interrogation. He was tired, frustrated, angry, and really pissed off all at once and at varying degrees.

Later on, he'd wonder if it was because of a need to focus all of those bad feelings on something or just habit that found him keying into Leighanne's apartment a little after three, but once he was in and realized his mistake. He knew Leighanne's super sonic hearing had already woken her up and probably had her standing at the end of the bed wielding a Louisville Slugger.

Even with everything he was feeling at that moment Woody had to smile at the image. Yes, he legitimately felt like shit for what he was about to do.

"Woody?" her soft but croaky voice called out, twisting the dagger a little more as he realized she'd definitely been crying.

"Yeah…yeah Leigh, it's me.." Woody whispered back resigned.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked putting the bat down and walking out of her bedroom into the main room.

"I…." stumbled here blindly in exhausted delirium? Was too tired to go all the way to my apartment when I knew yours was closer? "Wanted to apologize…for lunch," he said trying to sound sincere.

"…….Oh." she responded after a long moment. "I don't really think that there's anything more to say Woody…" Leighanne sighed and crossed her arms defensively over her chest after turning on the lamp beside her couch.

"I…I didn't say anything Leighanne.." Woody said curtly.

"That's right." Leighanne fired back. "You _never_ say anything Woody…we used to talk about things when we first got together…but ever since this…this Jordan came back into your life it's….you've changed…" she said quietly.

"No, I haven't Leigh, I've just….I've had a lot on my mind…with this case and all you know, and I…" he looked at the floor and mustered up the strength to give her the puppy dog eyes. The eyes she could never resist.

"But you…you wouldn't come with me today, at lunch you just.." Leighanne started and shook her head. "You wouldn't come with me.." she repeated.

Woody had to think fast if he wanted to be in a warm bed before daylight. "But I'm here now…and I'm sorry Leigh…I really am…" he said softly and took a step towards her, running a nervous hand through his hair.

Leighanne tapped her foot on the hardwood floor and regarded him for a few tense moments. "Fine. You can stay…just…just no more talk of this case," she said in a warning way, looking towards the bedroom for good manipulative measure.

Woody just nodded and made note of not feeling well, anything, at lying to her this time. Before she could ask anything more of him Woody shrugged out of his coat, leaving it on the floor as he walked towards her already untying his tie and kicking off his shoes.

"I shouldn't let you stay you know..." she said even as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him lightly.

"Uh huh.." Woody murmured against her lips as he pulled her close and deepened the kiss.

"I shouldn't even talk to you right now.." she whispered as he picked her up heading towards the bedroom.

"So don't," Woody grunted kicking the bedroom door shut before he dropped onto her on the bed.

* * *

Six twenty-one. A.M.

That was the exact moment in time that Woody looked through the dawn light of Leighanne's bedroom at the blinking red digital clock and realized he was most definitely the biggest bastard to ever walk the earth.

He sighed and lifted his head slightly to look around the bedroom for each piece of clothing he came in with while simultaneously making sure he didn't wake Leighanne sleeping on his chest.

"Too late…." she whispered suddenly against his collar bone. Busted.

"Hey…" Woody whispered softly and settled a stiff hand on her back. "I was just … uhh..I was….I didn't wanna wake you and…" he stopped and sighed when Leighanne lifted her head and smiled at him sadly.

"…And you were thinking how am I going to get out of here with my balls still attached after what we did last night felt like break up sex," she whispered and touched his cheek with a silent nod.

Woody narrowed his eyes at her. "I felt it, too," Leighanne explained. "And I'm sorry that it went this far…" she said kissing his collar bone once. "I'm sorry that I got attached…" she whispered with a kiss to his neck and Woody swore he felt a warm tear slide down into the cleft between his collar bones. "But most of all I'm sorry I was too selfish and optimistic about what we could be to realize I was dating a taken man," she finished with a soft, light kiss to his lips.

"Leigh I'm not.." Woody began quietly. She raised a hand.

"For all the times you've lied to me, don't do it this time….please? Just…" she took a deep breath and Woody could swear he almost felt her heart break through the soft, warm breast that was pressed against his side. "Go," she whispered and reluctantly moved back from his arms. "Just go," She said as her final, desperate request.

Woody rested his head back on the pillow and took a deep breath. "Okay," he said sitting up and climbing off of the bed. Without turning to look at her Woody gathered his clothes from the night before.

"There's a Brewers sweater in the top dresser drawer and one of your suit coats in the closet," Leighanne reminded him quietly from the rumpled bed sheets. Woody just nodded and gathered the items once he was dressed.

He stopped in the doorway and shook his head, opening and closing his mouth a few times. "Leigh…" he started.

"Let's not have this whole awkward good bye thing between us Woody.." Leighanne said wrapping her arms around the pillow behind her head. "Let's just…call last night our good-bye and leave it at that okay? I don't think my heart or my ego could take much more," she admitted and cast her eyes away from him.

Woody nodded. "Good-bye, Leighanne," he whispered with his hand on the doorknob to the bedroom.

"Goody-bye, Woody."


	7. Interrogation

**Chapter Seven**

**Interrogation**

Woody could feel a headache building. It started as soon as he left Leighanne's apartment -- a niggling, annoying pain that gained momentum when he went home, showered, shaved and got ready for work. Four Tylenol and a Starbucks later, it was no better when he arrived at the precinct to go to work. He flipped through the files on his desk…homicide, homicide, homicide, suspicious death at nursing home but probably not a homicide …

The last one in the stack was the Rosen file. Woody shoved this one aside. Right now, between the splitting headache and knowing just how much of a bastard he had been to Leighanne the night before, he wasn't ready to face what this file could open up…Jordan, Eddie, Max, Campbell, Cahill, possible Russian mob connections…a can of worms he had yet to put a lid on.

But like a bad penny, the case wouldn't go away. No matter what Woody did the rest of the morning, the file glared at him from out of the corner of his eye. Finally, he sighed and reluctantly opened it going back through the information, sifting through the pages of interviews, Max's and Eddie's reports, Yokura's coroner files, the pictures of Jordan….

Jordan…Woody rubbed a hand down his tired face. If there was a weak link in this case…one that may not have told him everything, it was her. Whether consciously, she was trying to be a pain in the neck, or unconsciously, she was repressing what she knew, his detective's instinct told him that she may know more than she was letting on. He needed to question her again.

But the thought of that sat cold with him. It was bad when they talked at the diner the other day, to hear her confession one more time. It was worse last night, seeing her and Winslow together – the knowing smiles and glances – the fact that those two had a history he couldn't come close to duplicating and didn't want to imagine. To be alone with her and question her again…the way he had to this time…Woody knew that would be the worst of all.

However, salvation does come at the most unlikely times and in the most unlikely forms. And this time it was in the form of a female detective…Roz happened walk into the room that very moment. "Framus," he called out.

"Morning lover boy. What happened to you? You look like hell."

"I've got a really bad headache, Roz."

"Take something for it?"

Woody grimaced. "Four Tylenol and a Starbucks."

Roz grinned, coming over and sitting on the edge of his desk. "Didn't help any, huh? Maybe you need to go home to Naughty Nurse and get some homegrown lovin' to make it better?"

Woody gave her a death stare.

"Or….maybe not. What happened? You two have a fight? Is that why you have a headache? Not getting' any?"

The death stare continued…only turned up a notch.

"Okay….I'll take that as a no. Forget I said anything." She slid from her perch on the side of his desk, only to feel his fingers curve around her wrist, bringing her to a stop. She tilted her head and gave him a quizzical look. "What's up, Hoyt?"

"I need you to take a look at this file and tell me what you think."

Roz sat down in a chair beside Woody's desk and read through the file, her eyes growing wide at its implications…and who it involved. "I knew Eddie was here yesterday," she said, "but I didn't know it involved all of _this_."

"You know Eddie?"

"He and I were partners at one time….worked a racketeering job with organized crime several years ago."

Woody sighed. Turning this over to her may be easier than he thought. She was acquainted with all the players…she knew mobs…."So what do you think?"

"I think it's one hell of a lifetime chance to solve a cold case….go for it, big boy."

Woody shuffled some papers around on his desk, avoiding Roz's bright and all-too-knowing eyes. "I….I was kind of hoping you'd want to take this one over…"

"Me? Are you crazy Hoyt? This is a big one…a make-or-break career case. This is your golden opportunity to regain the ground you lost after your DL leave…No way I'm taking this off your plate." She got up from the chair and leaned on his desk. "Besides, I've got a kidnapping, six homicides, and an armed robbery I'm working on." She strolled back to her desk across the aisle from his. "And I know why you're trying to pawn this one off on me."

Woody raised his eyebrows as if daring her to continue.

"I'd like to think it was my great detective skills…which are outstanding, if I do say so myself, but that's not it. It's the Cavanaugh connection. Face it, Woody. She's the ME. When Garret retires, if he ever does, she'll probably be the chief ME. You will be working with Jordan for as long as you have a career here with the Boston police department. Deal, dude. Just remember, you don't have to kiss her at the end of a case anymore…you can go home to Nurse Betty."

Yet another death stare was aimed at Framus. "Her name is Leighanne," Woody quietly said.

"Yeah…whatever.."

"And we broke up."

Framus looked crestfallen. "Aw, Woods….I'm sorry…I didn't know. If I had of, I wouldn't have teased you so…"

Woody sighed yet again. "You wouldn't consider questioning Jordan for me, would you?" he finally asked, hoping to play some broken hearted sympathy on Framus.

It didn't work. "Hell, no. It's your case, Hoyt. You question the woman…and you just have to _question_ her…not sleep with her…not unless….."

Framus received yet another death stare as Woody picked up his phone and punched in Jordan's office number.

* * *

"Okay, Jordan, I just want to go over again what you know about the Rosen case," Woody said, sitting across from Jordan in an interrogation room.

"I've told you everything I know," Jordan replied, unsure of exactly why Woody had called her in. When he had phoned her earlier in the day, he had simply said he had a few more questions about the case and about what Max and Eddie had told her. She had assumed whatever inquiries he had could be answered quickly, painlessly, and in his office. Not in an interrogation room. "Why? Do you think I'm hiding something from you?"

"Your father is involved…as well as your former lover….so yeah, I'm wondering if there's just this much of a chance," he held up the thumb and index finger of his right hand with just a small space between the two, "you're covering for someone."

"Woody…I know what you're thinking. That my dad discussed his cases with me and we role played to try to solve them. But this is the _one_ case he absolutely refused to do that with. He told me to forget it, don't ask any more questions about it, don't speak of it again. You know how Dad is…once he says that, there is no more discussion. None."

That much Woody did know. He had heard Max's responses to Jordan about her mother's death – _don't speak of it again_. And Max didn't. He left Boston to avoid his daughter's questions.

"Okay…what about Eddie? You two were dating then. He kept a close eye on you, according to Max. Did he mention anything?"

"Eddie? No. He rarely discussed work with me unless it was me, him and Dad together. We'd talk about anything _but_ his cases."

"So he said nothing about the Rosens…especially Daniel?"

"No…even when I asked him about the case after Dad shut me down…he wouldn't discuss it, either."

"And you don't remember anything else….didn't over hear anything?"

Jordan stopped and put her head in her hands, wrinkling her brow in concentration.

"It's important, Jordan. I don't need you to hold back anything in order to cover for Max or Winslow."

"I'm not covering for anyone, Woody," she replied, her voice rising in frustration and anger. "You have to remember…I wasn't even a ME then. I was an intern at Boston General, in the thoracic department. Other than listening to Dad and Eddie discuss their case, a lot of the forensics went over my head….tox screens, ballistics…that was Dad's thing…valves and bypasses …those were mine."

Another barb that she had a past before the Farm Boy from Wisconsin invaded her life. And that Eddie was a part of that life…an important piece of her history.

"What about Eddie?"

"Woody…we were _dating_ for Christ's sake. We didn't talk about _work_ when we were together .. "

"Winslow said nothing about you being in danger with this case?"

"Me? In danger over one of Dad's cases? Woody ….don't be ridiculous..."

"Then explain how your dad got these…" Woody shoved the packet of pictures that Max had given him at the bar several days ago. He watched Jordan go through the pictures, a bewildered look in her eyes. Her and Max ….her and Eddie….her coming out of her apartment….going into Eddie's….

"I don't understand…I don't remember anyone taking these pictures…Who did? Dad or Eddie…"

"Neither. Your Dad and Eddie began getting these pictures of you in the mail. The Russian mob had you under surveillance. They were, in their own subtle way, threatening your father and Eddie by strongly insinuating that you would come to the same fate as Claire Rosen."

Jordan felt the blood drain from her face. At that time in her life she was engrossed in her studies and head over heels in love with Eddie. She would have never known she was being watched. She would have never known what to even be aware of. Why didn't anyone tell her….Bewilderment and confusion filled her eyes as she looked up at Woody.

"I didn't know…." she began, her tongue tripping over the words.

Woody nodded, stood, and leaned toward her, his hands on top of the table. "So tell me Jordan….what else did you know?" His face was mere inches from hers, and anger filled his eyes.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jordan nearly yelled at her father, the file in her hand shaking in anger. "You knew and you didn't say a word…"

"Nice to see you, too, dear," Max said, after answering the door and letting Jordan into the house. Max had decided to stay put in Boston until Woody could clear up the Russian mob and the Rosen case. Part of it was to finally see some justice. The other part, the bigger part, was to make sure his daughter was safe. "And tell you what?"

"The Rosen case…that I was being watched. That I was in danger…."

Max's face fell. "He showed you the pictures, didn't he? Woody showed you the pictures?"

"Yeah. He showed me the pictures. Why didn't you and Eddie tell me anything?"

"Jordan, you were busy…you were doing an internship…studying….we decided that you didn't need to know…"

"I didn't need to know my life was in danger?"

"You weren't an ME then, Jordan. You weren't involved. You were….an innocent."

Jordan choked back a laugh. "So you and Eddie took it on yourselves not to tell me my life was in danger….that I didn't need to know?"

"We were keeping a close eye on you until me, Eddie, and Yokura could bury the case."

"Oh. So that's why you kept wanting me to come home on the weekends and even week nights. Was that the reason Eddie practically lived with me during that time….and then cooled off so quickly that it was like a deep freeze with our relationship?"

"Jordan, it wasn't like that…not at all. We both enjoyed having you nearer us."

She snorted and grabbed the file she had dropped on the couch beside her when she confronted her father. Rising quickly, she headed for the door with her father's words echoing behind her. "Yeah, sure," she said pausing before she left. "You've lied to me nearly all my life….how am I supposed to believe that, either?"

She slammed the door behind her, the swiftness of her motions and the cold Boston wind whipping her hair around her face. The tears that had been threatening since her time in Woody's office earlier that morning finally finding a release and sliding down her cheeks. Had any of the men in her life ever told her the truth? Her dad? Eddie? Woody? How much of the truth had they revealed to her?

How much of their love had been a lie?

* * *

"So how'd it go Wood man?" Roz asked Woody when he came back into his office after questioning Jordan.

"It went," he replied quietly, dropping into his chair and burying his head in his hands.

Concerned over her partner's attitude, Roz perched herself on the side of his desk again. "She didn't take it well?"

"No…it wasn't that…I just dropped a lot of information on her she wasn't aware of…I think I may have blown part of her past…part of her history out of the water…maybe the only part she was really secure in and felt like she had control over," Woody mumbled from behind his hands.

"Oh." Roz mussed the ends of Woody's hair up. "Would it help if I said she _will_ get over it? Jordan's a strong woman…one of the strongest I've ever known. She's been through hell and back…and survived. How many of us can say that?"

"I know." He uncovered his face and sat back in his chair. "But you were right about one thing…"

Roz raised her eyebrows, curious about what he was going to say.

"It would have been easier to sleep with her."

Roz chuckled and went to the door. "Want some coffee, Woodster?"

"Yeah…a large….black."

Roz nodded and went to find the needed caffeine. Woody turned his attention to the other files on his desk when his cell phone rang. "Hoyt," he said absent-mindedly into the receiver, not noticing the caller ID on the front. There was silence on the other end for a second.

"Who is this?" he asked.

"Woody…it's me…it's Jordan..." Her voice sounded so weak and tired that if she hadn't identified herself he wouldn't have recognized her. Instant concern flooded his body. His brain registered it hadn't felt this about her in several months.

"Are you okay, Jo?"

"Yeah, fine." She followed it by a long sigh. "I just needed to tell you something."

She didn't sound fine. "You remembered something?"

"No…no. That's just it. After you interrogated me today…I went to talk to Dad. He wouldn't tell me anything he hasn't already said before…and he's probably told you more than he's told me. I tried to talk to Eddie, but I couldn't get in touch with him…I don't know if he's gone back to Springfield or if Dad tipped him off that I was asking questions and he's not taking my calls. If he's still in Boston, I have no idea where he's staying…and have no desire to try to find him…that's your job…you're the detective…" she gave a weak laugh, but it came out more like a choking sound.

"Jordan, have you been drinking?"

"No…I haven't. I wish to God I had." She sighed again. "Maybe this wouldn't hurt so much, you know?"

"What hurts, Jor?" His concern for her doubled in the space of less than two seconds at her confession.

He heard her take a deep, wavering breath, trying to steady her voice. "Me. Everything. Has anyone told me the truth ever in my life? Dad … Eddie….you….has anyone ever been honest with me? Has everything in my life been a lie…even Dad's and Eddie's love?"

Woody was silent for a moment. He really didn't know how to react.

"Anyway," she continued, her voice still soft and weak, "I _don't_ remember anything else, Woody. And I'm being honest. I don't remember anything else…"

"Jordan…." He began, wanting to reassure her somehow that everything was going to be okay.

A soft click in his ear was her only response.

Jordan had hung up on him.


	8. Divide and Conquer

**Chapter 8**

**Divide and Conquer**

_Boston is cold this time of year. Wet and frigid, not unlike the winters of my youth. I admit I've become spoiled by tropical breezes and tranquil seas. It's a weakness that I'll need to overcome because there is work to be done. Thankfully, it is time like this that our business technique is most efficient. Machiavelli said it best_: divide et impera_. Divide and conquer. Two marks. One an old associate, the other an unfortunate causality. The first will be as the American's say: a piece of cake. The other only slighter more complicated. It is only a matter of days, maybe hours, before our objective is located. Tracking used to take legwork, now it just a simple the click of a button. Once we are done we can we back to the quiet where we belong. _

* * *

By the time Eddie turned his phone back on there were five new messages. Two from his office in Springfield...the third from a concerned Roz...the fourth, a short 'Call me ASAP' from Hoyt and the last...the last was from Jordan. His heart broke when he heard her voice. It didn't take a detective to put together the messages and figure out what happened. The cat was out of the bag. Eddie jumped in his car and drove to the address on Pearl Street Jordan had given him the first day he was back.

The building looked like Jordan, a little rough around the edges but full of charm. He could see right away why she called it home. At first he thought she wasn't there until he saw a shadow pass the crack under the big, red door. He pounded one more time.

"Jordan, I know you're in there. Open up."

Jordan opened the door gingerly. Silently, she stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, then shrugged when it became apparent that he wasn't going to take the hint and leave. Leaving him standing there in the doorway, Jordan curled back up on the couch pulling a pillow in front of her. It was pitiful security in the face of the week she'd had experienced, but it was all she had.

"If you are here to blow smoke up my ass, I'm sorry but you'll have to excuse me if I don't give a damn anymore..." Her voice was deceptively calm.

"Jordan," Eddie said softly.

Her voice shook as she spoke. "I should've guessed that all that special attention had nothing to do with us. It was all an act. You and Dad dug yourselves into a hole and I was your excuse out. Damnit Eddie! You should have told me."

"What good would it have done? You were safe. That's what counted. We saw to that..."

"And spending all those nights with me? Was that just part of the _protection_?" Jordan spit out bitterly.

At the time she knew their relationship was hitting a cool spell. She naively thought Eddie's attentions were because he wanted to make things work between them.

"Jordan, it wasn't like that and you know it," Eddie chastised

"It all makes sense now. Taking me to class, picking me up for dinner, never letting me out of your sight... You claimed there was a rash of attacks in my neighborhood. Two perps, fair-haired and foreign sounding. _The_ _Brothers_, I think you called them. Was that a lie too...or did you know who was out there?"

"...We had our suspicions," Eddie admitted quietly.

Jordan laughed. It was a lifeless laugh. "I just spent the better part of the afternoon being grilled by Woody, of all people. He was _adamant _I knew something about this case. I told him I didn't. Because I didn't know what were lies and what weren't. You never told him about these..._brothers_...have you?"

"It was just an Easter egg hunch Jordan," Eddie explained. "When Yokura and Max came up with this theory about dual hitmen, there was only one pair on file that fit the profile. Dmitri and Yuri Krouchkov. They were contact killers from the Ukraine. Back then they based themselves out of New York. The feds connected their M.O. to at least a couple dozen hits all up and down the east coast. It was a stretch to believe they'd be involved in the Rosen murders, but Max..."

Jordan's voice rose to a shrill. "_But Max what_ Eddie? But Max didn't want to get his feet wet, so he backed out and gave up?"

"They, or whoever it was, threatened your life Jordan. We decided we couldn't take the chance," Eddie justified.

"And let two killers walk. Do you think they up and quit right then and there? How many more people died because you let them walk?"

"Your safety was all we cared about."

"Apparently my safety was all you _ever_ cared about," Jordan's whisper was deceptively calm.

Eddie brushed a stray strand of hair off her shoulder and cupped her chin in his palm. Jordan pulled away but still watched him and felt like a fool.

"I loved you, Jordan."

It wasn't that long ago she would have believed he had just handed her the world with the sound of those words. Now she didn't know how she felt. Jordan took a deep breath and wiped her thumbs under her eyes.

"He needs to know," she stated clearly.

Eddie stood and began to pace.

"I've already called one of my contacts at the Bureau. The Krouchkovs left the country years ago. As far as they are concerned the Russians are someone else's problem now."

"If your theories are correct they killed two people here in Boston. The Krouchkovs are _our _problem. He needs to know Eddie," Jordan insisted.

Eddie stopped and looked at his watch.

"...You're right," he admitted. "When he's at Quantico, Hailey's never out of his office before they threaten to turn off the lights on him. I'll have him fax me what he's got..."

"Hailey?"

"Drew Hailey. He's a criminal profiler for the Bureau ...and one hell of a poker player," Eddie added with a grin. "He helped us out on a kidnapping case last year. He's one of the good guys, Beautiful. Why?"

"Nothing," Jordan smiled in spite of herself. "I just thought I heard the name somewhere before...that's all."

Eddie cocked an eyebrow. There was more to her reaction and he knew it. He made a mental note to ask Hailey about the enigmatic Jordan Cavanaugh the next time they met.

"I'm sorry Jordan. I'm sorry about everything," Eddie said softly

Instinctively, Jordan knew he wasn't talking about the case anymore. The corner of her lip curled nostalgically.

"I spent the morning down by the inlet," Eddie continued. "You remember the one where I kept that boat?"

Jordan chuckled softly thinking about the rickety, old, sail boat Eddie nursed along for as long as she knew him. It was more of a dingy then anything and Eddie didn't know a thing about sailing. They'd just sit out on the deck and watch the real sailboats float by. He'd dream about running away together. She'd dream about leaving her demons behind.

Jordan nodded. "That thing took on more water then it displaced. Whatever happened to it?"

"A nor'easter. I'm sure in makes a better lobster pot than it did a sailboat."

"I should have run away with you when I had the chance," she said with a devilish smile.

"How far do you think we would have made it before we tried to kill each other?"

"It would have been a moot point. That thing you called a boat we wouldn't have made it past the Longfellow Bridge before it sunk."

Eddie touched her again. This time Jordan didn't move. She leaned into him looking for the warmth of another human being. Something she hadn't felt in a very long time. The old habits of youth fell into place and their lips met.

Eddie traced the seam of Jordan's lips with the tip of his tongue until she opened them. It was a dance they had danced many times before.

The steps were same, but the music was gone.

Even so, they both were reluctant to pull away.

Eddie tenderly kissed her eyelids and whispered, "I love you, Beautiful. I always did and I always will."

Jordan nodded and stepped out of his arms. For a moment she felt like that young woman who fell head over heels in love with her father's handsome, new partner. She was so different then; a girl, really. A girl that brought more baggage to their relationship then the just the usual overnight bag. In hindsight, they never really had a chance to work. Those same ghosts couldn't put a claim on her heart like they did before...but now new ones had taken their place and they must have shown in her eyes.

"He's a good man, Jordan."

"Maybe, but that ship sank to the bottom of the sea, too, Eddie," Jordan laughed uncomfortably.

"No, it didn't. He cares about you Jordan. I can see it every time he looks at you."

Like the flick of a mercury switch, Jordan's answer was to open the door. "He got tired of waiting, just like you did. It's for the best. We'd..."

"We'd what Jordan?" Eddie gently probed.

"I'm on duty tonight and it's a full moon. You know how that can go...I need to get some rest."

"I've done all I can for Hoyt with the Rosen case. I'm leaving tomorrow."

Jordan wished she had it in her to ask him to stay. Instead she just nodded. "...I understand."

"If I don't see you..."

Jordan cleared her throat and found the last bit of strength she could find. She painted on her best Cavanaugh smile and said, "Sure. I'd say let's keep in touch...but you know how that works..."

Eddie kissed her softly. "I do."

She waved good bye as he walked down the hallway and slowly out of her heart.

* * *

After a long shower and change of clothes, Captain Winslow signed himself into the quiet nineteenth precinct bull pen and commandeered Roz's desk to make a quick call to DC. As he suspected, Hailey was still in his office. A few jokes and a bribe of cold beer, hot brats, and Green Monster tickets the next time he was in Massachusetts, Hailey shot out everything the Bureau had on the Krouchkovs.

Eddie was picking up the last fax when a call came into the bull pen. There was a suspicious death at county lock up. The same place Charles Campbell was being held. The same Charles Campbell that sang about the Rosens. The reason that brought Eddie back to Boston in the first place...

* * *

For most people the phone ringing in the middle of the night meant bad news. For Woody bad news was just a part of life. He rolled over and groped for the phone in the blue light of the television screen.

"..Yeah, Hoyt."

Twenty minutes later Woody was walking down the caged halls of the county lock up. Rounding the corner in to solitary confinement he saw Capt. Winslow. Woody briefly wondered if the man slept in the Brooks Brothers suit he was wearing. On second thought, Woody took in the perfectly pressed lines and realized the man probably never slept. The more Woody dwelled on it, he figured Winslow probably kept his suit in the bat cave with the rest of his cool toys...

Woody felt like the unmade bed he resembled. Unfortunately, his condition had very little to do with the fact that his rest was interrupted by the death of the one and only key they had on a decade old murder case. Guilt was a cold-hearted bitch.

"Routine rounds are every thirty minutes. They found him lying face down on the floor," Eddie said the second Woody was in range. "It was too late for CPR."

Woody looked around the corner of the small cell. Charles Campbell lay on the cold concert floor frothing at the mouth. Around him was a pool of liquid. By the pungent odor Woody could only surmise the man's bladder let go as he lay dying...or sometime before. Fear and death can do uneasy things to the body. Woody had been around long enough to know they were either looking at an OD or poison. It would be up to the M.E.'s to figure out which.

After letting out a stream of words that could make a sailor blush, Woody ran his hands through his hair sending his already messy locks into a state of total disarray.

"How the hell did this happen?" he asked a near by prison official. The man looked like he was waiting for his head to roll on a platter. Woody grinned. Apparently, Winslow got to him first. Instead of waiting for the poor man to pee his pants like Campbell had Woody turned his attention to the captain.

"They're looking at the entry records and video as we speak. There were three guards on duty for this wing. Nobody saw anything."

Woody pointed out to the general lock up area, "Anybody talking yet?"

Eddie shook his head.

"How the hell can somebody just waltz into county lock up, get into solitary, and kill someone?"

Eddie grinned grimly. "This isn't my jail..."

* * *

Jordan pulled her hair back in a sloppy ponytail and flashed her badge to the half dozen uniforms standing outside the entrance. She was exhausted. The day she had had left her drained. She almost called Garret to cry off of this crime scene, but she decided against it. It wasn't like she as going to be able to get any sleep. Her thought were too haunted. Work would be a much welcome relief. That and a cup of joe.

A young uniform escorted her inside. She shifted the weight of her kit in her hands as she squeezed through the crowded corridor to the section of the jail that segregated solitary from the rest of the inmate population. Her head was screaming for caffeine as she followed the flashes of the crime scene investigators cameras.

Over the last few days sleep had been nonexistent at best. Every time she closed her eyes her mind was bombarded with images from the past. Images she thought she had long since buried. For years Jordan thought she had come to accept and categorize her feelings for Eddie only to realize it took one last kiss to really put them in perspective. It gave her hope that she was well on her way with dealing about Woody, too. She hoped a kiss wasn't what it took. She didn't want to take that chance. She had a feeling that just one wouldn't be enough.

"I need a life," she mumbled to herself.

"Did you say something Dr Cavanaugh?" her escort asked.

"Ah...I think this is my stop," she pointed at the doorway that was lined with CSU.

Like the preverbal bad pennies the two subjects of too many of her thoughts were kneeling over the body of an inmate.

Standing there, now, with their heads together, they were so different from each other...yet so the same. Eddie was always cool efficiency. A man that led with his mind and not his heart...even where Jordan was concerned. He offered her stability in a time of her life when her grip on reality was growing shaky. Now, he was mellower. The lines around his eyes said he smiled more. Eddie Winslow was a man that was finally comfortable in his skin. Woody on the other hand was like a volcano laying low until the next time to erupt. His naiveties and anxieties melted away and left a man that took life by the balls and never let go. That was until a bullet brought his mortality into his consciousness. He's matured, settled down and aged twenty years over night.

Now she felt like she didn't know either of them from Adam.

"The M.E. is here," The uniform yelled.

Jordan picked here way though the suits and CSU to come face to face between the two.

"...Let me guess..." she quipped.

"It looks like my travel plans have officially been put on hold."

"I'm glad," Jordan smiled softly.

Woody cut in. "I hate to break up this happy moment, but there is a dead guy on the floor that is not getting any warmer. I need to know who did this."

Jordan visibly bristled at Woody's tone. "What have you got so far?" she asked as she pulled on a set of gloves.

Woody looked at Winslow over the top of her head. "Not a damn thing. I was hoping you could change that while we wait for the village idiots to cue the surveillance tapes."

"Your idiots, not mine," Eddie added.

Jordan was feeling a little like the filling of a testosterone sandwich. "Let me by and I'll see," she argued.

Eddie and Woody parted like the Red Sea and let her through.

Jordan began her examination. "The urine is dark. His jaw is clamped the posture of his body arching of the neck and back, there are signs of muscle spasms." She opened Campbell's mouth. "His larynx is collapsed -- possible respiratory failure. I'll have to run a toxic screen, but if I were to make an early guess, I'd say we're looking at poison. Probably Strychnine."

The same officer that escorted Jordan to the scene reappeared. "Capt. Winslow...Det. Hoyt. I think they found something. "

"What?" Eddie asked.

"Two employees logged in two hours before the body was found. One was an off duty guard, the other a medic. When the officials double checked one wasn't answering his phone and the other was reported to be found unconscious in an alley behind his apartment building.

"I want an APB out on the missing guard," Woody said.

"Anything else?" Eddie asked.

"The video feed shows two unidentified males in this section about ten minutes before the body was found..."

Jordan's head snapped up at the mention of two suspects. Eddie was not looking at the patrol cop. He was looking at Jordan and his face was as white as his starched shirt.


	9. Isle of Capri Motor Lodge

**Chapter Nine**

**Isle of Capri Motor Lodge**

By the time Woody and Eddie made it back to the precinct, Woody was ready to explode. He had watched the security tapes in total outrage. The two assassins walked through the halls of the jail like they owned the place. Yet they could never get a good shot of their features. For all they knew they could have been anybody.

That was until Eddie told him the rest of the story. Woody was glad Roz was there to keep him from doing something he'd regret.

"Krouchkov? It sounds like a cheap brand of vodka," Woody commented dryly and shifted back and forth in his seat. The amount of caffeine humming through his system made him anxious. He couldn't sit still.

"More like high end hit men," Eddie countered. "We heard rumors in connection..."

"Rumors and oh-by-the-fucking-ways! Why the hell can't I get a straight story on this case? No wonder this one got so...dicked up!"

"...There were strings. They got tangled," Eddie warned.

"There are _always _strings! That's why you have to stay on task! It's the only way to keep them straight...or didn't they teach you that in the academy!" Still on a tangent Woody pointed to Eddie's Italian leather wingtips. "Or did you bypass that lesson and go straight to how to keep a shine on your shoes..._Sir_!"

"Detective..." Eddie growled

A two fingers whistle broke the verbal sparing in the bullpen, but didn't do any thing for the tension.

"Boys, boys...Cease or I'm going to have to call the cops," Roz sing-songed pointing at the awkwardly milling staff that was trying to do their own jobs.

Woody sighed loudly and ran a shaky hand through his hair sending it up in odd angles, making Roz comment on the fact that he needed a haircut.

_Roz was right_, Woody thought to himself. Life was still going on around them even if it felt like his was in an endless downward spiral. Maybe Leighanne was right. Maybe he was burning out. He could see Winslow was chasing similar ghost around in his mind. An unspoken, and very temporary, truce was struck.

"Fine...fine," he sighed in resignation. "Do we have anything on these assholes?"

Eddie loosened his tie, still glaring at Woody, and slid a grainy fax photograph across the table.

"I made some calls to an old friend over to the Bureau. Dmitri and Yuri Krouchkov. They've been doing the Russian organization's dirty business for years. They appear and disappear at will. They've been AWOL for the last five years. Big Brother thinks they have been forcibly retired..."

"B...But you don't believe that," Woody said studying the picture of two very unassuming figures. They looked more like middle-aged school teachers than cold blooded assassins.

"The feds have tentatively tied them to at least 80 hits...and not just Russian. These guys are free lance."

"...And since they are making their lives so much easier, the feebees turned a blind eye..." Woody laughed mirthlessly.

"You said it, not me..."

Eddie was interrupted by Roz's phone ringing. His voice dropped, "...That was until they capped a government official on a dog and pony tour for a possible government supply contract down south somewhere..."

"Which put them on the Homeland Security watch list..." Woody concluded.

"From what they can decipher the brothers are enjoying a true retirement in the Cayman's."

Woody chanced a grin. "That's good. They're not our guys."

Eddie passed another fax across the desk. "Central Casting intercepted a phone call from a strip club over on Broad to the Cayman's.."

Woody looked at the name of the bar on the paper. The club in question was a known Russian mob cover.

"I'm sure Homeland is on top of this..."

"Don't be so sure, Cowboy..." Roz cut in as she hung up her phone. "Two marks fitting the Krouchkovs' description landed at Logan yesterday."

"And they just let them walk!" Woody said incredulously.

"We're talking Logan here Woodrow, Fuckup Central. Security lost them shortly after they left the terminal."

"And nobody thought it was important enough to tell somebody!"

"Yesterday afternoon the Krouchkovs were just a couple of questionable islanders breezing into town for a Bruins game," Roz said calmly.

"They're here to clean up lose ends," Eddie stated simply. "We stirred the pot and now they're here to finish it. Campbell...and then Jordan."

"...Not before I say something about it. First things first. We need to get Jordan under wraps. Roz! I need a big favor...Get on the phone and get a black and white over to the morgue to pick her up and bring her here..."

"I'll go," Eddie said. "Until we're sure, this should be a need to know..."

Woody was about to argue no, but then thought the less people that knew about this the better. Somehow these assassins had gotten past the best Boston had to offer and got to Campbell. It was only a matter of time before they were able to track Jordan down. Without protection she'd be a sitting duck. Woody nodded his head and turned his attention to finding a place to stow Jordan. He picked up his land line and began to call in a few favors of his own. The lieutenant could rip his hide off later. He was going to take care of Jordan under the table. Even though it killed him to admit it, there were only a handful of people he could trust right now...and Winslow was one of them.

* * *

The sun was a cold yellow disk on the horizon outside the precinct building that was quickly becoming a battle field. Those in the need to know were secretly placing bets on who would leave the small integration room alive. The opinions were pretty well spilt down the middle. One thing was for certain. The volatile Doctor Cavanaugh did not like being forcibly removed in the middle of an autopsy.

"_Protective custody?_ You've got to be kidding me!" Jordan exclaimed.

Woody stood with his back against the mirrored wall with his arms folded confidently across his chest. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

"This is ludicrous! I've got work to do...for your case, if you didn't notice."

Jordan argument fell on deaf ears when Woody's phone rang. He answered with a few brief words and hung up with an almost undistinguishable flip of his wrist.

"We're ready."

"I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

"That's not what I'm worried about. I'm a little more worried about the bigger, bad guys on this one..."

"I'm not going and that's final."

"I have handcuffs Jordan...and I know how to use them," To prove his point Woody reached around his back and produced a pair.

"No..."

"...Try me."

"Screw you Hoyt."

"Take a number and get in line Doc," Woody cut back. It wasn't like he was going to win any popularity contest in the near future...At this point, what was one more 'no' vote?

* * *

Jordan simply glared at the wall beyond the bed of her new found hell. A day-glow print of a still water lake hung above the heavily scared pressed wood headboard. It looked like something that happy tree guy paints on PBS on Sunday mornings. Only this painting bounced in time with the heavy thumping coming from the adjacent room.

"_Come on, come on, you sexy son-of-a-bitch...that's it...that's it... more!" _

"_You like that don't you? Ride it baby, go, faster. Yeah...Shiiiit, that's good."_

The paper thin walls only added to the ambience of the rented room Woody had her dumped in.

"Where the hell did you find this place..?" she asked rhetorically to the empty room.

Suddenly, the verbal foreplay from next door disintegrated into a hodge-podge of animal grunts and groans that rose in a fevered pitched ending to an unearthly crescendo.

Jordan rolled her eyes upwards. "Thank God."

In the calm, Jordan pulled the sun bleached curtain back and glanced out at the parking lot. Other than Romeo and Paris's rotating acronyms, not much had changed in her twelve hours of exile. Her jail guard of the hour was sitting at the uncovered window of the room directly across from hers. She was tempted to give him a five fingered wave...but was afraid she'd turn into a one fingered one. Instead she just grinned. They were stuck just like she was. The two eighteen wheelers that were in the parking lot when Eddie dropped were gone and replaced by a third. She could only assumed the rusted out powder blue Trans Am parked out front belonged to the sex machines next door.

She dropped the curtain and leaned warily against the press board dresser that matched the natty headboard cigarette burn for cigarette burn. It was almost midnight and she was still fully dressed. She couldn't bring herself to take off her shoes and walk across the grimy, olive green carpet let alone climb between the sheets of the camel backed bed.

The place had charm to spare. Jordan had stayed in places that made this look like a dream. It was just the fact that Hoyt forced his hand and put her under house arrest that made her mad. She tried to reason with Eddie, but to no avail. For once, two men that couldn't agree on the color of white, agreed on putting her in some no-tell motel in the middle of nowhere.

Seeing no point to put off the inevitable, Jordan flipped off the bedside light to get ready for bed. Not surprisingly, the room was still bright enough to see in nauseating detail. There was a row of fluorescent lights that ran the length of the overhang outside the motel's doors. The bug yellow light seeped under the curtains that barely skimmed the windowsill making the room glow like something out of an old film noir.

The only saving grace Jordan found with the whole situation was the six-pack that Eddie had dropped off earlier. She had begged him to help her escape and he offered her a bag of hot burgers and cold box of imports instead.

The burgers had long since been tossed in the trash but the beer remained. It was piss warm and flat by then...but Jordan didn't care. She popped open a bottle and peeled off her boots and jeans. Cautiously she pulled the bedspread off the bed and tossed it in the closet like the toxic waste it was. Finally, one toe at a time, Jordan climbed into the bed and shut her eyes.

Her dreams came quickly. Muffled gun shots and bitter poison. First Max, then Eddie...finally Woody...next...

With a gasp, she shot up. A fine film of sweat covered her body even through the chill of the room. The dry, musty smell coming from the window unit was almost reassuring. A fact she'd never admit it in a million years. Jordan curled back up and stuffed the wafer thin pillow under her head trying to shake the dreams and close her eyes again.

"_...I can't get enough of you baby. It's so God damn big..."_

The gunshots from her dreams were echoed in the steady pounding from next door. The rabbits were at it again.

"_Fuck darlin'...you could suck an olive through a straw..." _

"Oh...give me A BREAK...!" Jordan exclaimed flopping on her back. Exasperated, she pounded the wall with the heel of her hand. "GIVE IT A REST...!"

There was a brief blessed moment of silence. Then a round of high pitch giggles. Jordan decided the idea that they had an audience didn't seem to faze them. There was barely a break in the squeak of the bedsprings.

When it became apparent that the show next door wasn't going to end anytime soon, Jordan climbed out of bed and debated on whether to try to make a break for it. She was about to look out the window again when there was a knock on her door.

Woody double checked that Jordan was alone before he pulled his old Chevy into the parking lot of the Isle of Capri Motor Lodge. Even though The Isle was known more for its hourly rates than its cozy comforts, a little voice in the back of his head warned him not to be surprised if Winslow helped Jordan settle in. It was late. Too late for a social call, but this wasn't social. Jordan's safety was his responsibility. He knew he wouldn't be able to get an hour or two of sleep until he saw her face.

At first, Jordan thought maybe the human piston from next door was paying her a visit to discuss her interrupting his good time, but the knock came with a cadence. It was a series of knocks that meant it was one of her official captors. Through the peephole, Jordan made out a walleye view of Woody rocking back and forth on his feet in the cold wearing a pizza delivery uniform. She arched an eyebrow and opened the door a crack.

"That had better have pineapple..."

Woody took in the sleep tossed hair and deep circles under her eyes and smiled. "Black olives and bacon."

"You like black olives and bacon," she said opening up the door to let him in.

"..And they were stingy with the bacon this time," he finished tossing the empty box on the top of the dresser. He peeled back the curtain and nodded to the window next door.

Woody took a moment to notice the blanket in the closet and the empty beer bottles scattered around. He also noticed she stood there in nothing but a pair of thin white panties and deep red camisole top. Suddenly warm, he tossed the uniform hat on top of the box and unzipped the jacket.

"I see you've made the place home..." he commented grimly.

Jordan snorted. "When can I get out of here?"

"As soon as the coast is clear..." he answered matter-of-factly. A loud bang against the bedside wall drew Woody's attention to the x-rated ruckus from the other side. In spite of the situation, Woody had to grin. "I'll be..."

"She's been polishing his balls all night. Right friendly place you've got here, Wood."

"That's the point. Nobody sees anything going on in a place like this. That's what makes it safe."

"Well, next time I want five star and room service..."

"Looks like you already had room service," Woody said warily pointing to the beer.

"Eddie's idea of a peace offering. And here I thought you were the one who was supposed to be full of chivalrous charm. You bring empty pizza boxes."

"Well damn. I must have misplaced the glass slipper somewhere along the way of trying to protect your pretty little ass." Woody lowered his voice when the rhythm of the bed springs next door began to slow down. He pulled Jordan bodily to the opposite side of the room and hissed. "If you and your _friend_ were up front about this from the beginning Jordan, we wouldn't be playing catch up right now."

Jordan pulled her arm out of grasp and planted her fists on her hips. "I was honest when I said I didn't know anything, Woody."

"Funny how you and your boyfriend discuss a pair of international assassins the second I let you go," he squinted at her.

"You still think I'm covering for them..."

"If it looks like a duck, Jordan. This is a big case, real big..." he said sternly.

"Oh yeah, you're the big D.I.C. I forget. This is all about you isn't it?"

"Yes, damn it, I'm in charge," he continued hotly. "But this is about justice, Jordan. I need to have all the details...no matter what they are. Nothing comes before that, not your precious Captain Winslow, nothing."

He was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath stir the tiny hairs that clung to the side of her cheek. She was in protective custody to keep her away from people that wanted to hurt her physically. Nobody even thought about what this whole situation was doing to her emotionally. She back away and wrapped her arms around her waist.

"When did you become such an asshole?"

"I wanted to fit in," Woody whispered checking the parking lot one more time. "It seems to work for Winslow."

"Eddie's a man of conviction...He doesn't go around making unfounded accusations."

"Speaking of the devil, I half expected to find Mr. Integrity here. You can tell me, Jordan. Couldn't he keep up with the action next door? Or was he just worried about getting his suit wrinkled?"

"When did you become such an asshole?" she asked again, her voice shaking.

He must have liked what he saw outside because he let the curtain go. "When I stopped worrying about what everybody else thought."

"I almost feel sorry for Luanne."

"Leighanne," he corrected her.

"Whatever." Jordan reached for the doorknob. "I should ask you why you're still here, Woody. I'm still in one piece. Why don't you go home? I'm sure _Leighanne_ is getting tired of warming the bed all by herself."

"...Not anymore. We...broke up."

The wind was temporarily taken out of her sails. "I'm sorry."

Despite his mood, he stifled a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, well, ironically she blames us."

"There's no 'us'. There never was," she said with false bravado.

"Oh, there was an 'us' Jordan. As truly pathetic as it was...there was an 'us'," Woody spit out, venomously.

"You know, you're not one of my favorite people anymore," she whispered.

If possible Woody's face turned stormier. "I never really got the impression that you had to be all that wowed by a guy to sleep with him. Tell me Jordan...why was I so different?"


	10. What Could Have Been

**Chapter Ten**

**What Could Have Been**

Without a moments hesitation Jordan reached out and smacked Woody right across the face with a resounding crack.

His light Irish skin instantly began to redden and the color almost matched the furious red his ears had turned.

Without more than a flinch, Woody sighed and opened his eyes, looking down into hers angrily. "Why Jordan? It's a simple question…what made me so _god damned_ special that I wasn't good enough to be with? Do you ever think of that? Do you ever wonder what could have been?" he asked as his voice raised in anger. "Do you!" He almost yelled, gripping her arm at her elbow. She didn't pull away and Woody put his face closer to Jordan's.

The corners of Jordan's lips tugged down shakily, a tell tale sign that she was about to cry. Jordan just continued to stare at him and he could see the tears returning to her eyes again.

"…Because I do…almost every damn day.." Woody admitted in a softer voice and Jordan's only answer was to lift her head and look up into his eyes with a sniffle.

Woody's face softened minutely and he smiled sadly brushing another pair of tears off of her cheeks and froze waiting for her to pull back from his touch. When she didn't, he stepped forward, closer into her personal space, leaned in and pressed a hard, stolen kiss to her lips which she surprisingly, hungrily, desperately, returned.

Woody pulled back and opened his mouth to say something but Jordan stopped him with her arms around his neck and her long, elegant, bare legs wrapped around his waist.

Without a word Woody took two long strides to the bed, dropping Jordan onto the top sheet and pulled back only to push the pizza delivery coat off. He pressed her hard into the mattress and made a casual, mental note that the springs of this bed were as squeaky as the one's that had just recently ceased next door.

With a grunt that told Jordan he was over dressed, Woody pulled his body back from hers once more -- long enough to strip off his shirt and push Jordan's camisole top up enough to bring his lips down and tug at her deep, pink nipples with his teeth.

When she moaned and arched into him, Woody took the opportunity to push the shirt over her head and onto the pillow above her as she reached down between them to unbutton his jeans.

Not wanting to let the other feel like they were being given something, they pushed their hands away from trying to remove the other's clothing. Woody made short order of pushing off his jeans as Jordan lifted her hips and yanked the white panties down.

No matter what either of them pretended this was about, they couldn't fight the nearly identical moans that forced their way to the surface at the first contact of warm, naked skin to warm, naked skin. Without realizing it Woody slipped a hand under her, settling it at the small of her back in a possessive gesture that went over both of their heads as they writhed against each other in time with the suck and slurp of deep, passionate kisses.

There were no words of appreciation or professions of love. They both were well beyond conviction that it was too late for that. But as they accustomed to a steady back and forth motion of rubbing against one another, Jordan hitched a breath and whispered one word to him.

"Now…"

And with a twitch of his hips, Woody was happy to oblige.

He was quick at first, true to his personality and their history. He bombarded her, ever persistent in his advances only to have her dance her fingertips over his hips lightly, calming him, slowing him down, as if to say 'back up a little.'

Woody nodded with a grunt beside her ear and slowed only to angle his hips, taking a slightly different approach to her body and steadily building his pace.

The shock of the move caught Jordan off guard and she reluctantly began to move with him, her hands holding his hips. Where before she had held his hips to keep him at bay she was suddenly using them to hold him firmly inside of her, adjusting to the cadence he seemed to be moving to.

When he couldn't take much more, Woody began to move feverishly, his brow furrowing and his ears and cheeks flushing red to match the mark Jordan's hand had left on the side of his face. A light sheen of sweat broke out over his whole body and he didn't realize the same was happening to Jordan until a bead of sweat smeared from his chest to hers and joined with the light peppering of moisture already on her skin.

He traced his hands brusquely over the curves of her body, as if trying to commit every inch of her to memory – in case a night like this one never came again for the two of them.

Before he could process the shiny flush spreading over her cheeks in the neon glow from the signs outside of the curtains, Jordan flipped Woody over and slid down fully onto him, making him cry out in a moment of unbridled emotion for this woman who had eluded his intimacy for so long. He silently hoped she wasn't still eluding him.

Jordan slowed a moment and studied his face in the coarse light. Even though her body had a mind of its own and was humming close to the edge, she tried to ignore the ache in her heart and focus on the feel of him moving underneath her. Being with him, now, she had nothing to lose...she had already lost it all. His grip on her hips was strong and desperate. She could see the question in his eyes. She cut it off with her lips trying to convince herself all this was just a little left over passion that had built up, boiled over, and was triggered by a set of event that took place long before she ever met him. Her anger with the only thing that she had to hold on to, it's what kept her going...and Woody was there … handy.

Each buried deep in their own inner battles, both physical and mental,they remained speechless except for an occasional loud moan or soft sigh as Jordan rode over him, her own hands running over his chest and arms, stopping momentarily to trace the abdominal scar that had put the kill shot in what they could have been.

When he could feel his control slipping, Woody rolled her over again with a growl and buried himself deeply inside of her. Not able to stand the angry, intense silence anymore Woody gasped and groaned one word.

"Jorrrrrrrrdaaaan…."

He collapsed on top of her and they lay there joined, heaving for breath but still not speaking.

When Woody finally moved off of her and lay on his side he reached out for Jordan and was surprised when she sat up pulling the scratchy, paper-thin sheets around herself.

"Jord.." he started but she cut him off.

"I think you should go..I…I think this was a mistake.." she said softly, not turning to look at him.

Of all the things Woody imagined would come of this night, those words leaving Jordan's mouth were not anything close to what he had envisioned her saying.

He sat up and looked at her with shock in his eyes. "What!" he asked exasperated and ran a hand through his hair angrily.

Jordan felt the anger in his words and the pain went straight to her heart. But she couldn't ever mend the ties that had been cut between her and Woody. She thought of her father and all of his lies, of Eddie and how he'd mislead her in their relationship; lied to her. And Woody; the one man she'd come close to considering as someone she might be able to spend her life with and he'd pushed her away too.

"…You knew what this was when you came in here tonight, Woody." She said quietly but sternly, as if he should have known what she meant.

"What are you…are you trying to tell me that what…what…what just happened meant nothing!" He yelled, tuning on his knees towards her.

"No…yes…I don't know Woody, just please…I can't do this anymore, I can't keep…keep being… hurt by the people I love. The keeping things from me..the lies.." she started and Woody punched the mattress as he bolted from the bed unabashedly and pulled his clothes from the floor.

"The LIES! The LIES, Jordan?" he yelled and felt his voice ready to crack with the emotion of watching the woman he loved pretending she didn't love him back. He yanked on his jeans and pulled on his shoes.

As he grabbed the shirt he'd been wearing he pointed it at her with one hand. "Maybe you should think about who's telling these fucking LIES, Jordan." He bit through clenched teeth and grabbed his jacket as he stared her down once more and turned, going out the door and slamming it behind him.

Jordan sat there for a long time, the sheets clutched in white knuckles. She watched the headlights of the car Woody had driven as they flashed bright with the start of the engine and darted away in an angry dash.

She couldn't say she blamed him, though. She had wanted to run two years ago when he kicked her out of his hospital room. She'd been turned down by the one person she thought she could trust most in life and it hurt. Only this time she was the one lying in bed, telling him he should leave.

She wiped her eyes and covered her face when the realization hit her. This was payback. She didn't love Woody any less than she did two years ago, she didn't think what they had just done was a mistake and she certainly wouldn't take it back if she could.

But with the emotional stability of a young girl, Jordan had done something she feared she might not ever be able to take back. She had finally opened herself up to the intimacy of the man she loved and then the school-ager deep inside of her had pushed him away because 'he did it first'.

"…Stupid.." she said aloud between sniffles and finally climbed out of bed, pulled her clothes on and went to the wooden chair by the little table under the window. She couldn't sleep on the bed that still held the familiar scent of Woody and the new scent of them.

* * *

"Hoyt," Eddie called into Woody's open office door. "Come on, we've got a grand jury trial to go to and we still have to pick Jordan up from the safe house on the way," he said and Woody looked at Roz, sitting across from him and back to Winslow.

"What? Why? Can't you just go get her and I'll meet you there?" he asked and Winslow shook his head.

"I ran over a nail in front of those condos they're building on Commonwealth. People can afford to charge two grand a month rent, but a public servant busts a tire in front of their work site and he's on his own.." he grumbled with a wave of his hand. "Come on Detective, a trial ain't a trial without the star witness," he said raising his eyebrows.

"Y…yeah, okay.." he said standing and rubbing his sweaty palms down his pant legs as Winslow pulled his head back and disappeared into the hallway.

Roz sat still across from Woody, only moving her chair to swivel it whichever direction in the room he moved as he gathered his coat, his case file, fixed his hair and tie. It wasn't long before Woody felt eyes on him and glanced over to see his partner's grinch-like smile over the top of her long manicured fingers as she watched him.

"What?" Woody asked curtly, clearing his throat and fixing his tie again.

"I know that look…" Roz stated simply and continued her scrutiny for a long moment before she sat up straight, the grinch smile growing ever wider. "You got LAID last night…you lucky dog. You've gotten over the night nurse then?" she asked, patting him on the back.

Woody just shot her a look and sighed.

"Uh oh.." Roz said taking his cheeks and making him look at her. "Unfortunately I know that look too…that was the sigh of a man deep in regret.." she said and Woody tried to avoid her gaze.

"You didn't hit the red light district did ya, Woods?" she asked and Woody pushed her hands away.

"No for Christ's sake…I…I didn't.." he started and rubbed the back of his head.

"Hoyt!" Eddie yelled down the hallway and Woody's nervous hands swiped over his pant legs again.

Roz suddenly realized his reluctance to leave. They were going to pick up Jordan and her partner seemed less than eager to get there.

"Oh Woodrow…you didn't … ." Roz sighed and smacked his cheeks lightly. Woody pushed her hands away again and raised his own.

"Not…not now Roz, just…not now," he said softly and hurried out the door as Winslow yelled for him once more.

Framus watched Woody scamper down the hallway after Winslow before shutting the door. "Lord and in that flea bag motel too…" she said and clucked her tongue. "I thought I raised him better than that," she sighed, with a shake of her head and went back to the case she was looking at.

"So what's with you?" Eddie asked casually as they drove towards the motel where Jordan was waiting.

"Nothing, I'm just…." Woody sighed and looked out the window trying to find a way to answer truthfully. "I'm ready for all of this to be over," he said with a decided nod.

Eddie watched him a moment. "Sure," he said with a short nod as they pulled into the parking lot of the motel. Eddie immediately turned off the car after a glance around to make sure they hadn't been followed.

He stopped when he noticed Woody hadn't followed him. "Hey, Hoyt," he said leaning back down to his window and looking across to the passenger seat. "You keeping the seat warm? Let's go," he said waving a hand.

"Yeah..sorry," Woody answered shortly and climbed out himself. He looked up at the door to Jordan's room. The same door he had slammed behind him not long ago. He didn't know what would happen when he went back through it again but he selfishly hoped that Winslow being there would make it a little easier to go back in.

Winslow knocked the sequence Jordan was told to listen for before answering the door and it opened slowly. She seemed relieved to see that it was Eddie as she opened the door but the relief quickly faded when she saw Woody not far behind.

"Can I go now?" she asked meekly, not at all like the Jordan they were used to. Woody watched her move around the little room trying to straighten up. She hadn't looked at him directly since they walked in the door.

When Woody didn't answer, Eddie responded. "Yes, the trial starts at two," he said nodding and Jordan just nodded back and quietly began to pack her things. When she was finished she shouldered her bags and Winslow looked at Woody expectantly.

"Here," Woody said curtly and took the bags from her, heading out to the car.

"Gee, now I know why the ladies are always hanging around you, gentleman of the year.." Winslow mumbled putting a hand on Jordan's back as they headed out to the car behind Woody and he kept a lookout for anyone around them.

After a silent ride to the station, Winslow got out and tossed Woody the keys. "We've got two hours until the trial starts. Take her home, let her get a descent shower and some food and be downtown by two, got it?" he asked and Woody looked at him wide-eyed.

"B…but.." Woody started and Jordan just rolled her eyes and tried to imagine a scenario that could make this day any worse than it was shaping up to be.

"No but's detective, that's an order," Winslow said pointing at Woody before he walked into the station.

Roz was returning from the soda machine when Eddie arrived in the station. "Hey, where's Doc Witness? Got her in a matchbox in your back pocket there, Eddie?" she asked and Winslow flipped through the case file in his hand as he passed her.

"No..no she's gone home for a much deserved shower and a hot meal," he nodded heading for Woody and Roz's office.

"Oh yeah? Who's on protection?" Roz asked sipping her soda.

"Uh, Hoyt, Hoyt's with her." Eddie said casually and looked up as Roz spit out some of her soda with a cough. "What? Why? What's with you?" Eddie asked setting the file down.

"…Wooo boy…this should be interesting," Framus answered with a shake of her head.

* * *

Across town Woody was carrying Jordan's bags up to her apartment.

"You know I could do that myself," Jordan offered and Woody glared over his shoulder.

"I was just saying.." Jordan started again as they climbed off of the elevator.

"Yes," Woody finally spit out as they got to her door. "I'm perfectly well aware that you can do things yourself, Jordan," he said sarcastically as she opened the door and walked into the dark apartment.

"Hang on," Woody said putting a surprisingly gentle hand on her shoulder and moving her aside as he flipped on the light, dropping her bags as he moved around the room, checking her bedroom, the bathroom, the windows.

"You don't have to do that, Woody. I know you could really care less what happens to me now," Jordan said grabbing her bag.


	11. An Ocean of Hurt

Chapter Eleven

That was the match to the tinder whose flame sparked a firestorm.

"I could care less?" Woody nearly shouted, then remembered Jordan had neighbors who were home during the day "Me? Look who's talking…after the best sex either of has had in a long time….maybe even ever, you tell me _I could care less?_ You'd better watch what you're talking about, Jordan."

"You knew what was going to happen in that hotel room before you even got out of your car. You planned it…"

Exasperated, Woody ran a hand through his hair and turned from her, staring unseeing out of her windows. Maybe he had. Maybe subconsciously he had planned on getting her in to that bed before his feet even hit the hotel stairwell. Maybe he was trying to prove to himself he could still go places with Jordan that Winslow didn't have a chance at. Maybe he was trying to exorcise any leftover feelings of lust or sexual frustration from Leighann…

Or maybe…just maybe….he had wanted to see what Jordan's reaction would be. Would she turn him away, or finally give int o that unresolved sexual tension they had so carefully built up over the years?

"Maybe I did," he growled in a hard voice, turning back to her. "But all you had to do was say no and I would have stopped. Cold. Instead, if I remember correctly, _you rode me half the time_."

Jordan's cheeks pinked at the memory. But she was on a roll and wanted to stay with it. "You never complained, Detective. You finally got what you wanted…me in your bed. I hope you're happy…"

"Delirious. Now get your shower and something to eat. The trial is at two and the judge isn't going to wait just because you pitched a temper tantrum and wasn't ready on time. Winslow will want us there by one-thirty at the latest or he'll be on the radio riding my ass." He turned away from her again, staring unseeing out the windows, wondering how something that could have been, should have been so good, turned out so terribly wrong.

Silently, Jordan stalked to her room, noting that her appetite, despite not having breakfast, was nowhere to be found. It probably wouldn't show up again until the Krouchkov brothers were jailed and she could get totally out from under Eddie's and Woody's watchful eyes.

Going into her bathroom and turning the shower on as hot as she could stand it, she stepped in and tried to let the stinging spray wash off the feel of the night before still on her skin. For hours after Woody had left, she could feel the touch of his hands on her…the feel of him in her…she had sincerely hoped that it would have been Eddie picking her up and that he would watch over her the last few hours before the grand jury trial. Gentle Eddie…despite the fact it was over between them…Eddie would have comforted her … instead of fought with her.

She needed that now, as she stepped out of the shower and began to get ready. She needed comfort…not antagonism. She needed someone's arms around her as she tried to not only hide out from Dmetri and Yuri, but also as she began to put hers and Woody's relationship in perspective. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes as the realization of what had happened between them hit her hard again. He had pushed her away…for two years they had nothing to do with each other…and then to have things end up like this… a night of cheap, meaningless sex at a cheap no-tell-motel.

That's not the way she had wanted it to be with him…not their first time together. She was no vestal virgin, but she had wanted it to be special…not tawdry…and slow and tender…not fast and furious…Not that a quickie wasn't good…but not for the first time.

Instead of being special, she felt all the night before had been was a cheap, quick fuck.

And she felt Woody despised her for not only pushing him away….but for letting that happen between them.

* * *

She emerged from her bedroom a few minutes later, dressed for the grand jury trial. Woody ran approving eyes over her, from the top of her head, where her hair hung in the waves and curls he loved so much, to the soles of her feet, now clad in expensive high heels. In between, she was dressed in a pencil-straight black skirt and a light pink blouse…that somehow emphasized a new fragility that was surrounding her.

For a moment, his eyes swept her face, noting for the first time the dark circles that hugged her eyes…and the slight redness in them and her nose. She had been crying. _Not tears…not from her…not again…_ he thought. "Are you ready?" he asked brusquely. Woody was ready to get the hell out of her apartment and hand her over to Eddie. Then he was going to ask for a couple of days off to get his emotional footing again. His body ached for a long run along the beach to clear his head and put his life back in order.

"Yeah…let me get my purse," she said, snapping him out of his thoughts. She retrieved her purse and her keys. Woody took them out of her hand and locked the door behind them, making sure the door was secure before he led her to the elevators, one hand on her back to keep her close and safe.

"Stay with me, Jordan," he said to her as he put her in the car to drive to the courthouse. "Don't try to run ahead or pull away…" Woody could not push the feeling away that they were being watched. Despite all the efforts of Boston's finest, he couldn't push the sensation away that he and Jordan were being followed. As he started the car again, he radioed in to Roz, who was helping supervise Jordan's transfer to the federal building. "We're being covered, right?" he asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

"There are black and whites and unmarkeds all the way around you. We have snipers on the roof of the building," Roz affirmed. "How's Doc Witness?" she asked. Roz's concern for Jordan had grew not only as the time for the transfer arrived, but also knowing what had probably occurred between the ME and Woody last night. If Woody had been addled that morning, Roz would bet her next week's manicure that Jordan was an emotional train wreck.

"Jordan's..Jordan's…" Woody glanced over at the woman in question just in time to see her chin go down and her curtain of hair hide her face from him. "Jordan's just as ready as we are to get this whole damn thing over with. Where's Winslow?"

"Waiting on you at the courthouse. Good luck, Hoyt. Keep her safe."

"Roger."

What seemed like hours later, Woody pulled up to the rear entrance of the courthouse. "Jordan…" She turned to face him…her face still a mass of emotions. Remorse for his harsh words hit him hard….this was as difficult on her as it was on him…she had been pulled away from everything familiar…and even after today, it might not end. And if the Krouchkov brothers weren't caught, she may spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulders. He silently cursed himself for being such an asshole. He hadn't stopped to think about the emotional toll this event was taking on her….the one time Jordan Cavanaugh was up to her ears in trouble that she did nothing to initiate herself. She was in it just by the default fact that she was Max's daughter and at one time had been Eddie's girlfriend.

He imagined she was tired of all the lies in her life and had the right to wonder what was real…or if any of it was…

Even last night.

"Jordan," he began again, this time his voice was softer, gentler…"Please…listen to me….we're getting ready to take you up the back way to the courtroom for the grand jury to hear your testimony. I know you do most things by yourself, but this is one thing you can't. Eddie's going to get you out on your side of the car….He and I and a half a dozen other cops are going to surround you…work with us…okay? None of us want anything to happen to you…"

She nodded and turned at the sound of her door being opened. Eddie helped her out and she was instantly surrounded…with Woody being on one side of her and Eddie on the other. She fought back a miserable chuckle when she felt _both_ men's hands on the small of her back. _They do their job too well_…she thought, wearily.

The elevator ride took seconds that seemed to hang like hours. She was led up a back hall she had no idea existed, even though she had testified hundreds of times in that building on other cases. They rounded the corner when Jordan noticed a tall man standing in the door way. "Dad?" she asked. Her entourage stopped momentarily.

"Hi honey. Heard you were going to testify, today, too. Thought I'd hang around just to make sure you're safe…" Max answered with a sad smile.

"I'll be fine. You didn't have to stay," Jordan said. _God…all the men in my life are surrounding me…did anyone think that I may need protection from them?_

"You know me…had to make sure…" Max replied as Woody began to urge Jordan forward again. Keeping her in one place wasn't healthy.

"I'll keep her safe, Max. Don't worry," Eddie said, who went along with Woody in pushing Jordan toward the grand jury room. They rounded another corner…the grand jury room was in sight. Jordan caught a glimpse of Rene' outside the door, waiting on her. But a sudden movement up ahead pulled her attention away. She thought she saw a glint of metal…

But Woody was sure he did. Instinctively, he pushed her to the ground as he fired off a round…

And all hell broke lose.

From her vantage point on the floor with some cop's body bent over hers, she couldn't see a lot…just feet running in all directions….more cops…uniformed and plain clothed…somewhere in all the chaos, Roz showed up and pulled her out of the fray and into a small side room, checking her over, making sure she was okay.

"I'm fine…I'm fine…" she managed to get out after her breath returned. "Dad…"

"He's here," Roz said, her head pulling to one side to indicate where Max was in the room.

"Woody?" she asked, her face clouding up. If he got shot again…and this time defending her…

"He's fine. He's out with Eddie, chasing the bad guys," Roz replied with a grin. "Those two are probably in a pissing contest right now to see who can catch the gunman first." She looked at Jordan with anxious eyes…the ME seemed to be getting more fragile by the minute…very unlike the Dr. Cavanaugh Roz had worked with.

"I need to see him," Jordan said, starting for the door.

"Hey…whoa…you ain't going anywhere, Doc. The Woodman will be back in here to get you as soon as he can…meanwhile, sit tight…" Roz replied, walking to the door to check out the situation. Jordan heard her mumble something in her radio before she walked back to where Jordan was sitting. "Woody will be here in a minute…"

And the minutes once again hung like hours until finally the door opened and he walked in. Woody carefully looked Jordan over for a moment. "They're dead," he finally said, a note of quiet resolution in his voice.

"Dead?" Jordan and Roz asked in unison.

"Yeah." Woody let out a long sigh and ran his hands down his face. "They had gotten blue prints to the god damn vent system in this building from off the god damn internet of all places…and used the vents to travel the length and height of the building to the grand jury room. From what we can tell, they actually entered the building yesterday and spent the night in a broom closet and then climbed in the vent system this morning to wait until Jordan made her appearance…"

"Shit…where's Eddie?" Roz asked.

"With the bodies..they're taking them to the morgue now. Guess I'll be back on desk duty again.."

"You're hurt?' Jordan asked in a quiet voice, full of concern, coming up to stand in front of him.

"No...I'm fine. I shot them, sweetheart. Both of them. So IA will do a review…and until then, I'm pushing papers…again."

Jordan lowered her eyes as Max approached and shook the detective's hand – hard. "Thanks, Woody," the older man managed to choke out. "Thanks for everything you've done to put this case to rest…and taking care of my little girl. Now I can have some peace and finally my daughter can have some peace, too. She was an innocent in all this, you know. Jordan didn't ask for this kind of trouble. Most of this is mine and Eddie's fault, I know…"

"Are you staying in Boston, now, sir?" Woody asked, trying to turn the man's attention away from the shooting…Jordan was growing paler by the minute and he wanted to take her away some place where they could be alone and he could make sure she was alright.

Max shook his head. "No…I'll be leaving today…"

Woody nodded and Max left the room to speak to Eddie. Woody had partially turned to go, too, to find out what else he needed to do before he took Jordan back to her apartment, when he felt a small hand on his back. "Woody?"

He swung around and there she was….relieved, but still looking extremely fragile. Woody could sense the protectiveness he had always felt for her rising to his chest. "Thank you seems so inadequate right now," she said, looking up into his eyes, her own whisky-brown ones swimming with tears. "But I mean it. Thank you so much from the bottom of my heart." She tentatively reached out to hug him, not sure if he would push her away.

Instead she felt his arms go around her tightly, pulling her so close that her head rested on his shoulder. "You're so very welcome, Jordan…so very welcome." How long they stood there like that, Woody didn't know. He just knew suddenly he didn't want to let her go. It was Jordan that finally had to pull away.

"I have to go….I guess I'll have to take Dad to Logan to catch a plane…" she was still sniffling back her tears, but looked nearly as reluctant as he did to break their embrace.

"Huh? Oh, yeah…" Slowly his arms slid from around her. She walked out the door to find Max and he followed her. "Would you have dinner with me tonight? To celebrate the fact that you're a free woman again?"

Jordan hesitated …for a minute Woody was afraid she was going to say no. "Are you sure you want to?" she asked in a small voice.

Woody gave her full smile, so reminiscent of old times Jordan felt her heart melt a little. "Of course I do…I'll pick you up at seven…Marasal's okay?" It was a small, Italian place…cozy, intimate, with a dance floor.

Jordan smiled back at him for the first time in what seemed like years. "That sounds really nice."

* * *

Dinner was excellent, although later Woody would never be able to recall what he had to eat. But he never forgot what Jordan looked like…when he picked her up at her apartment, he had to remind himself to keep breathing…forget the red dress of so long ago…she had on a strapless black dress that fell right below her knee, with a slit in the side, and a soft, beaded and jeweled wrap that she kept the chilly Boston air off her shoulders with. Her hair was down and once again she let it fall in the waves and curls he loved so much…

For a pair of seconds, he seriously thought about staying at her apartment and ordering in…just to look at her in that dress. Instead, he forced himself to take her arm and they went to the restaurant, eating what Woody knew was a perfectly wonderful meal with excellent wine….it was just the woman in front of him was so much more fascinating than whatever he was putting in his mouth.

Later, he looked at her over the rim of his wine glass…the dance floor was clear. "Dance with me?" he asked, standing up and extending his hand, then curling his fingers possessively over hers when she stood. It was a slow dance and Woody took advantage of the opportunity to hold her close again…feeling her curves through the soft material of her dress … contrasting that to the way she felt last night. He held her that way throughout the dance….and during the next song, he pulled her closer, letting both his arms encircle her waist, making her head rest once again on his shoulder and both of her arms go around his neck. He felt her sigh and snuggle closer. His arms tightened protectively around her.

Woody knew he had screwed up – royally -- from the night before in the hotel to the afternoon he had kicked Jordan out of his hospital room. Things would never go back to the way they were before that day. But he knew one thing for sure: he never, ever wanted this woman hurt again…by anything or anyone.

Jordan didn't deserve to go through anymore hurt…ever.

However, Woody painfully realized he was responsible for causing the woman an ocean of hurt all on his own. His chest tightened. Maybe_ he_ didn't deserve_ her_….

The music stopped and she pulled away. There was that awkward moment for them…as both of them knew what passed between them during the dance was far more than just a slow rumba. Jordan took a deep breath. "I think it's time I got home…it's been a long day…and we both have work tomorrow."

Woody nodded. "I'll get your wrap."

* * *

They both were quiet on the way back to her apartment. When he reached the red door, he took the key out of her hand and opened it. "Let me check and make sure everything's okay," he told her, still acting out of instinct to protect her. She followed him inside, the door closing behind her.

Satisfied that it was safe, he walked back over to where she was standing at the door. "I guess I need to be going," he said quietly, tossing her keys on the counter behind her.

"Thanks so much…for everything. It seems so inadequate…seeing what you've done for me…but I sincerely mean it. Thank you."

"It really was my pleasure….I think it brought some closure to both of us."

Jordan nodded and closed her eyes. Then it really was over between them…She was so sure of it that when she felt his hands around her waist she was startled and opened her eyes, but didn't pull away as he leaned in. He caught her gaze for a second…but didn't feel her flinch. Slowly he lowered his head and brushed her lips with his. She didn't protest. He did it again, but let his lips cling to hers for as long as she would let them. He stifled a groan when he felt them move beneath his….and the kiss remained chaste for a few moments….then he felt her fingers run through his hair and her mouth open. Gently he tangled his tongue with hers, taking it slowly…giving her time to pull away if things were getting too out of hand for her. She moaned against his lips and pulled him closer. He kissed her in earnest then…long, slow, wet kisses…making her mouth his.

Jordan was lost…awash on a sea of early, deliberate sensuality…entirely different from the night before…her heart was pounding so hard she knew he must feel it beneath the thin material of her dress…she allowed the kiss to become more heated until she remembered….

Woody might not feel the same way about her after their quickie in the hotel room…he may on some level, still despise her.

Slowly…slowly and reluctantly, Woody felt her lessen the kiss. "I think you should go now," she said in a soft voice.

"Jordan? Are you okay?" he asked against her lips.

Jordan wanted to tell him no, she wasn't okay…she hadn't been okay since the day he threw her out of his life…she didn't know if she would ever really be okay again. Not when Jordan herself was so in love with him her heart broke every time Woody walked into the room, knowing that it could be too late for them. "I'm fine," she managed to choke out, despite her thoughts. "It's just that I'm sorry, I can't…."

He was dumbstruck….not that Jordan had pulled away, but that she was stopping now…after the slow dances and him holding her so close he could feel her body's reaction through her dress. Slowly and reluctantly, he pulled his arms from around her and felt her shiver at the absence of his body heat. Hell, what he needed to do was take her to bed and make love to her all night.

Only now was not the best time. But it would come. She needed time to adjust back to her life…and they both needed time to prove to each other that any anger they held was gone…blown away this afternoon at the courthouse.

Gently he moved her from him and opened the door. He opened his mouth to say good night, but she beat him to the punch. Only it wasn't good night.

"Good bye, Woody," she said softly and shut the door behind him.

When she was sure he had left…walked down the hall to catch the elevator, she allowed herself to slide down the back of the door into a heap on the floor. Head resting on her knees, she began to sob. It was over…the Krouchkov brothers were now dead, and Woody could once again choose to be gone from her life forever.

And she would go back to just existing.

Except Woody hadn't moved from beyond the door. He heard her sobs…and wanted like hell to go back into her…but Jordan had been right…they needed more time to work through the issues in their life before…before…

He told her he loved her.


	12. Fall Out

**Chapter 12**

**Fall Out**

In Boston, winter gives way to spring. The city workers are busily planting pansies in flowerboxes along the streets trying to bring a slash of color for their winter-weary residents. Jordan barely noticed. Other than taking her coats to the cleaners, each day melted into the next...and that was the way she liked it.

Outwardly nothing had changed. She seemingly left the ordeal of having her life turned upside down with a grain of salt. While Jordan was saying goodbye to her father one more time, Macy expedited the Krouchkovs' autopsies. He wanted them and IAD out of his morgue before Jordan came back.

All of his haste was for nothing. Jordan came back only hours after being shot at. Garret was ready for just about anything, except for the reaction he got. She barely looked at the bodies and matter of factly, told the officers to just do their job. At the time, her utter detachment seemed strange, but welcome.

During the cleanup investigation, the brothers kill book surfaced. Jordan didn't bat an eyelash. She barely flinched when Roz told how the diary detailed how long they had been watching her. It spelled out minute particulars about her personal information and lifestyle. Everyone was mildly confused when Jordan treated the whole thing with a shrug.

A few weeks later, Jordan's flippant attitude changed to one of cool professionalism. Overnight, she closed herself off from any personal interactions that were not necessary. The collective worry doubled and a few interventions were attempted. Jordan was able to dodge them all.

One perfect spring evening two months after the shootings, Garret looked up from his desk to see Jordan handing him a pile of reports.

"Okay, I admit I got a little long winded...but hey, you can never say too much about cerebrovascular disease..." Jordan said with a lopsided smile.

"Never," he said tossing the reports on a growing pile of paperwork he had to sign off on. "Let's go out and get something to eat. It's beautiful out. Maybe alfresco at Jimmy D.'s? There's a trio tonight. We can get drunk and try to forget why we do this every day."

Jordan leaned back against the doorframe. "As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll pass..."

"Come on Jordan. There is nothing on your desk that can't be done tomorrow. When was the last time you left this building before midnight? As your boss I'm telling you...no, ordering you to take a break."

Jordan's eyebrow arched high on her forehead. "This from a man that has put me under house arrest to make sure I get my paperwork done."

Garret pulled her into his office and gestured for her to have a seat on the couch before he shut the door.

"I'm worried about you Jordan. We all are..."

Jordan's smile faded. She thought these little well meaning talks were finally over. Everybody else seemed to take the hint when she refused to be cornered into to talking about wounds that were better left to fester on their own. Heaven knows she dwelled on them enough in those dark, lonely hours before her alarm could go off. No, she didn't want to face them ever. Jordan tried to stand up and leave.

When Garret put a gentle, yet restraining hand on her shoulder and Jordan pasted on what she hoped was a sincere smile.

"If this is about that whole cold-case-from-hell-thing, I'm fine. It wasn't the first time I found myself on the wrong end of a gun and knowing my karma, it won't be the last. I don't see any reason to put any effort into second guessing or...worrying about something I was powerless to do anything about anyway. Just drop it, please."

"It's not that Jordan. It's this, busy work" he said softly, and pointed to the files on his desk. "After Hoyt's shooting, you buried yourself into your work. And just when it looked like you were really ready to let go, the Rosen case was reopened. I don't know all the details, but something happened."

"I had two crazy Russians take potshots at me, "Jordan lamely joked. "End of story."

When she tried to stand again Garret didn't stop her, but he made no move to step out of her way. Jordan had no choice but to sit back down...which she did in a huff. Garret was reminded of Abby when she knew she was going to get a lecture. He sat down next to her hoping to set her at ease.

"I don't want to delve into your private life Jordan, but as a friend, I'd like to help. What happened?"

Garret's sincerity touched Jordan is a way that took her by surprise. How often in the last few weeks had she been asked to talk? She loved her friends. They were more of a family then her own. But she still shied away from confiding in them. She didn't want their sympathy...or their advice. What she wanted was...

She didn't know what she wanted and for the first time since that heartbreaking day, one month ago, she felt herself tear up.

Jordan brushed her hands across her face, desperately trying to mask her emotions. She laughed self-consciously and tried to brush off her reaction with a few mumbled words of feminine denial.

Garret saw through them immediately and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Her neck bowed as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

Slowly, she surrendered and let her head rest against his. Jordan missed this. For all her independence, the motherless child inside her needed the physical contact of another human being. She'd let him talk, but there was no rule that said she had to listen.

"You can talk to me, Jordan. Did something happen between Winslow and Max while they were in town?"

"I wish it were that easy," she sighed.

"Hoyt." he said evenly, like that one word said it all. In a way it did.

They all knew what had happened between Jordan and Woody after shooting. As a result, Woody's stock didn't go up to far in anybody's eyes. It was thing to end a relationship because it wasn't it the cards, but it was another to walk away because of some misplaced notion of perfect timing.

"Jordan, don't you think you've kicked yourself around enough over him?"

Jordan gave Garret and watery smile not agreeing or disagreeing with his argument.

"The last time I heard he moved on...It's your turn, it's _past_ your turn, Jordan."

"He, um, broke up with her during the investigation."

"...Oh."

"I guess she thought he was taking the case too personally."

After the dust cleared in what should have been an easy IAD investigation, it became public that Woody went around his chain of command to protect Jordan. In hindsight, it was the right decision. Woody was cleared with a slap on the wrist, but everybody wondered if he would have made the same choices if it were anybody other than Jordan.

"Did she think you were getting close again...?" Garret led.

"No. I don't know. I guess. I really don't know."

"Did you? I mean did she have a reason to worry...?"

Jordan sat up. She wasn't comfortable with where this conversation was heading. "I thought you said you weren't going to get personal."

"I lied. There were a lot of details left out of Hoyt's report and your statement..."

"Since when do you make a habit out of reading police reports, Garret?"

"When they deal with the well being of one of my people I'm damn straight I'm going to read them."

Jordan looked away she didn't want to believe Garret would use his position to delve into something that wasn't his business. Yet, somehow she felt reassured, almost loved, that he cared enough to do so.

She pulled her knees up to her chin and said, "I wasn't happy about being locked away. We had a fight. In the middle of the night he came to check on me and we started in on each other again. We both said and...did… things we knew we'd regret. Before I knew it, one thing led to another and..." she trailed off, her voice little more than a whisper, her stomach in knots.

It didn't take much for Garret to add two and two together. The only difference was Jordan and Woody were the only two that knew that that night was the first and only time they had sex. The rest of their circle wrongly assumed they're relationship was a little more physical long before Woody's injury. His reaction was a little less shocked than Jordan thought it would be.

"So you relived a few memories. It happens. I know. Look at Maggie and me. You make mistakes. You make mistakes. You get rid of a little left over lust and you move on," he shrugged.

"Memories?" Jordan snorted. "The only _memory_ I have is an angry quickie between shooting matches."

"..Oh Jordan," Garret sighed compassionately. What little respect he had left for Hoyt was evaporating quickly.

"At least you have Abby...so everything wasn't a mistake," Jordan said wryly.

"...Yes." The comment took Garret by surprise. He couldn't help but remember Maggie's pregnancy scare during their own disastrous 'left over lust'.

His face grew serious and he looked her in the eye. "Are you telling me you're...?"

"No," Jordan answered with a mirthless chuckle. "You don't need to worry about being short handed. I'm not pregnant."

Garret didn't like the way Jordan hugged her legs tighter. "Why do I have a feeling you are not breathing a sigh of relief?"

"A few years ago I forgot to get my prescription refilled. I could never seem to find the time to get around to it, so I said screw it. It wasn't like I was getting any anyway. So when Woody and I...it wasn't planned. And as far as timing went, it couldn't have been worse. For the first week I didn't want to think about it and then I figured what the hell. You know, I'm not getting any younger..."

"So you thought if you were pregnant, your mistake would worth it."

"In the back of my mind… yes...maybe. I decided if I was going to have a baby, there was no way I could get rid of it. I would have kept it. I just wasn't prepared for the disappointment I felt when there wasn't one. It's ridiculous, but I still feel that way."

"You have time Jordan..."

"I guess the bright side is I don't have to tell my kid I was knocked up during a one night stand with a pizza delivery man at a motel that charged by the hour."

* * *

Woody rolled his stiff neck and dribbled the basketball twice before lobbing it in the basket. The sound echoed around the empty gymnasium. The pick up game was over. Everyone else bailed an hour ago.

Woody snorted and told himself it couldn't be his charming personality and impeccable sportsmanship that drove them away.

It was so much easier _BGS_. It's funny how he thought of his life _before getting shot_ and _after._ He vaguely remembered the shrink telling him he'd look at life that way until he put it all behind him.

Leighanne. He hasn't seen or heard from her in two months. After spending two years together he should feel more then just a little guilt.

On the other hand, he sees Jordan almost daily and he all he can think of is how much he misses her smile.

He heaved the ball at the wall of the gym and watched, with little satisfaction, as it ricocheted across the court.

The last two months he lived in a shell. He worked, he went home, and he avoided everybody and everything.

His dreams now had vivid details that weren't there before. He'd wake up smelling her perfume, believing that if he reached to the opposite side of the bed she'd be there.

Even now, all he had to do was close his eyes and he could see her eyes melt with the depth of his kiss. He could feel her long legs wrapped tightly around his waist urging him on. And if he held his breath he could still hear the soft catch in the back of her throat just before she came...

"Detective Hoyt?" asked a detached voice from the back of the gym. "We're getting ready to close up now..."

Woody reopened his eyes just as a bank of lights was being turned off. He had one idea how long he was just standing there, but his basketball was lying benignly inside his gym bag. He rubbed the back of his neck trying to chase the ghosts of his hallucinations away.

"Ah, thanks..." Woody waved automatically, scooping up his belongings, and headed out the door.


	13. Negative is a Positive Thing, Right

**Chapter 13**

**Negative is a Positive Thing, Right?**

The last dregs of his Jordan fantasy hanging in Woody's head made him less than excited about going home to an empty apartment and bed. He wished he could say it was just the companionship he missed and that anybody warming the sheets beside him would do but he knew he was just kidding himself.

After finally consummating what he and Jordan were, as fleeting and meaningless as they had both pretended it to be, Woody knew he'd never be able to touch another woman's body without thinking of Jordan.

With impending priesthood hanging over him like a large, dark cloud Woody headed for the office to catch up on some paperwork and try and figure out how to fix the relationship that had been so violently fractured.

* * *

Even though her conversation with Garret had ended early that afternoon, by night Jordan was still reliving the talk they'd had and still exhausting herself thinking about the epiphany that had come of that conversation. She wanted to be a mother. Somewhere between almost losing Woody two years earlier and finally admitting to herself that she wanted only him for the rest of her life Jordan had reluctantly admitted something else to herself. She wanted a baby. More to the point, she wanted Woody's baby.

All of her animosity towards Leighanne, coupled with her inability to find anyone for herself had all been part of this longing for a life and family with Woody. She had pushed any of those thoughts to the back of her head when he pushed her out of his life those few years ago. It wasn't until she admitted to Garret, or Garret pulled it out of her, that Jordan realized that for all of the twists and turns she'd taken in her life, Woody was at the only one she wanted waiting at the end of the road.

The idea of going home alone to her loft left Jordan less than enthused to leave work for the day. Fortunately, she has one more stop to make.

Grabbing the autopsy report she had been putting off giving to Woody for the better part of a week, Jordan headed for the 19th precinct hoping that being in his office might take Jordan a step closer to being back in Woody's life.

* * *

Woody leaned back in his chair and looked out the window of his office for the tenth time in as many minutes. The street lights lit up outside that he didn't often get to see coupled with his own anal retentive biological clock telling him he should be in front on his couch with a beer watching a baseball game instead of working had his limited attention span focused anywhere but on the case in front of him.

He set the folder aside with a long sigh and picked up another. As he leaned back in his chair once again, bent on putting his focus back on his caseload, he growled and tossed it aside when he saw it was a case he'd been waiting on the autopsy report for going on four days. An autopsy report Jordan was probably holding captive to make him nuts.

_Or it could just be that she doesn't want to have to look your insensitive asshole face_ he thought and scrubbed a hand over said face irately. He was just about to cut his losses and leave for the night when he heard a decidedly feminine cough from his doorway. Jordan.

"Oh..h…hey.." he said standing from his chair clumsily and rubbing his eyes. "What are you doing around this time of night?" he asked and looked her over briefly. She'd lost some weight. Not enough to make him worry yet, but as he'd seen what curves she had up close, even under the long sleeved tee she was wearing, he could see that those curves had diminished some.

Jordan just looked off through the blinds of his window and moment to avoid his coy scrutiny of her body and shrugged. "Well, I had this autopsy report and I was going home so I thought.." her voice faltered a little and Woody had enough sense to give her a sympathetic smile.

"…You thought you'd stop by and drop it off when there was about a five percent chance I was here.." he finished, knowing that while it might not have been what she was about to say, it had most definitely been what she was thinking.

Jordan just shrugged and opened and closed her mouth a few times uncomfortably.

"Thanks," Woody murmured, knowing that he was the sole cause of her discomfort. Probably her weight loss too. The big, less visible crack down the middle of her heart.

"You're welcome…umm…here," Jordan said with a short nervous laugh.

She hated that just with looking at her Woody could see the turmoil going on inside of her. Like he'd read her cues on that night of fast, angry sex -- he'd now obtained the ability to read her body language a little more easily, a little more accurately; like a lover. She waved the thought away with a wave goodnight to Woody as she turned back to the door. They could never be described as lovers. The doorway to that description had quite literally been slammed in her face.

"…Jordan wait…" he said making her hands stop inches from the doorknob. She made a fist when she realized her hand was shaking slightly.

_Wait for what? _he suddenly thought running a nervous, sweaty hand through his hair. What was there left to say? _See ya around. Take care. Come home with me._

When he didn't go any further right away, Jordan turned the knob.

"We never talked about what happened.." he said with a softness to his voice that had been missing for a few years.

Jordan gave a mirthless laugh and shut the door again without turning back to him.

"Really? Cause I remember quite vividly us screaming at the top of our lungs at each other after…" she said and her voice trickled off with a stab of pain to her stomach.

Woody sighed. He was pretty close to screaming again. He wanted to scream at her to turn around and look at him and as if she could read his mind her back stiffened. But he needed to know for his own peace of mind.

"That's not what I mean…" he started nervously. "I…I mean we let things get out of hand, we weren't thinking…and we certainly weren't prepared despite what you think I was doing there.." he said softly and lowered his voice.

Jordan finally turned to him incredulously. "Are you asking me if I've been tested?" she asked feeling her voice rise with each word.

Woody put up a hand quickly. "No no no…I..I know you get tested. You're an ME you probably get tested more often than we do on the force, but there are other ramifications…and…and I just wanted to know if you…if you are.." he stuttered and looked pointedly at her hips.

Jordan felt that little ache she thought would have disappeared after her talk with Garret return. She self consciously covered her abdomen and shook her head slowly.

"No..no you didn't knock me up, Farm Boy, so you can call off the shot gun wedding," she said trying not to let the disappointment she had felt when she got her period after their encounter creep into her voice or demeanor.

What surprised Jordan next was that instead of a masculine sigh of relief, Woody leaned back against the corner of his desk, his face unreadable as he looked at the floor. He finally looked up and nodded slowly.

"Thank you, though, I mean for telling me.." he said clearing his suddenly dry throat.

With a nod Jordan turned to leave and opened the door. For a third time his voice stopped her. Her pounding heart and the noisy midnight hallway almost drowned him out.

"For the record Jordan, I don't think of you and me as a mistake. Poor timing maybe...but never a mistake. I still think we need to talk about it...if anything I think we both need some closure."

"What do you suggest?"

"If you're asking me if we should sit down and hold a summit from opposite sides of a table with our lawyers handy...no. Have breakfast with me..."

Jordan released a barely audible sigh of defeat and maybe a little relief. "Okay…I think that'll be okay.." she nodded. At least it would be in a public place.

"At my place.." Woody finished and smiled that soft but nearly forgotten smile he had only for her as Jordan stopped in her tracks. "Only for breakfast... I promise." He nodded and Jordan couldn't deny the sincerity of his words.

* * *

"You make a pretty good Texas omelet, Detective." Jordan said after her first bite. She hated to admit it, even in the confines of her own private thoughts, but waking up a few mornings a month to this treat didn't seem like such a bad idea.

After a few more bites Jordan set down her fork.

"I don't know what you expected me to say here, Woody.." she started nervously wringing her hands at her knees.

Woody looked up from his own plate, his face showing signs of being a little hurt.

"I don't expect you to say anything Jordan…I…I mean I do, but I'm not looking for an apology. What happened between us.." he started and felt a blush creep to his cheeks, more from being ashamed than embarrassed.

Jordan nodded. "It was wrong..a really bad idea," she finished quietly and Woody looked up so quickly that it made Jordan do the same.

"No..no it wasn't a bad idea Jordan…it was a good idea, but it was… uhh...it was handled pretty shittily.." he said honestly. "We had sex, Jordan. Neither one of us is denying that, but what made it wrong was that was all we let it be. Sex." He finished lowering his eyes again. The memory of the feel of her soft skin and the warmth of her body wrapped around him made Woody shift uncomfortably in his chair.

Jordan watched him, his eyes unfocused and staring off into a memory she was having, too. His strong hands holding her body close to his, the look in his eyes as he made sure to hold her gaze just before he came.

"Was that all it was Woody? Just sex?" Jordan asked with a frailty she rarely let anyone see.

For all the lies they had been telling each other over the past few months, hell, over the past few years, Woody couldn't force himself to lie this time.

"No…no it wasn't…" he said softly and reached across the tiny kitchen table to hold Jordan's small, fidgeting hand still.

Jordan just smiled a small teary thank you and squeezed his hand back. "So where are we supposed to go from here, Wood?" she whispered looking at the table in front of her as the tears began to gently fall to her cheeks.

Woody felt a catch in his own throat and nodded slowly, squeezing her hand a little tighter. "Forward … Jordan…only forward …" he stated softly back.

Jordan wasn't aware that he had sat forward until she felt his warm breath on the bridge of her nose and she briefly recognized the creak of his chair as he shifted his weight off of it. She could only looked up into his eyes through the slight blur of tears to see the man she knew was the love of her life.

When their lip met this time it wasn't deep with passionate anger, but gentle and familiar, like old friends shaking hands.

"Tell me again Jordan…" he whispered between soft kisses. "Tell me again." He begged and Jordan could only reach up to hold his face in her hands.

"Please Woody…please don't leave me…I love you," she whispered as quietly and sincerely as she had that day leaning over his bedside as he lay near death.


	14. Play It Forward

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Play It Forward**

"Don't leave me…Please, don't leave me…" she continued between his soft kisses, barely aware that he stood and took her with him. "Please…don't…." Jordan could feel the hot tears begin to form in her eyes and slide down her cheeks. If he pushed her out of his life again, she knew she couldn't bear it. She didn't know what she would do. He was the love of her life and she wasn't sure she could go on if he chose to reject her again. "Don't leave me…." The phrase became a litany as she prayed he would understand the depth and sincerity of her feelings.

"I'm not…baby, I'm not….I'll never leave you…." Woody murmured against her lips and in between kisses. "I'm not…I'm not…I won't…" He felt his own rush of tears against his eyelids. He finally pulled back to wipe her tears away with his thumbs, and Jordan slowly opened her own eyes to gaze at the truth behind his words. He wouldn't leave her. This time, Woody played her for keeps…and he won. His own tears were silent testimony to that fact. Tentatively, Jordan brushed his tears away from his face, slowly trailing her fingers down his cheeks and traced his lips with her index finger.

"You won't…." she stated, finally convinced that he was telling her the truth. After nearly a lifetime of lies, she had to be sure he was telling her the truth.

"I won't…" he promised, running his fingers up the back of her neck and anchoring them in her hair, pulling her against him so her lips met again…clinging this time as he traced the outline of her lips with his tongue so that she opened her mouth for him, melting against him and allowing him access…and somewhere between then and minutes later, Jordan somehow found herself in his bedroom, on his bed, being held tightly in his arms as he continued to convince her how sincere he was…making this as different as night and day from their one evening of angry sex in that seedy hotel room…taking his own sweet time to slowly undress her before undressed himself and joined her in his bed.

Leisurely, he kissed her until Jordan was gasping for breath…only then did he just as unhurriedly began to kiss his way down her body…wanting her to feel desired, wanted, and loved in a way that maybe in the past she had only imagined…but never dreamed really existed. He kissed his way over her collarbone and down each arm, pausing at the curve of her elbow and traced erotic patterns with his tongue on her hand, before he kissed his way back over each breast and down to her navel…down one leg and then back up the other before lightly kissing her center and feeling her buck beneath him….Then in no apparent haste, continued back up to her mouth one more time. "Say it again, Jordan," he whispered against her lips. "Please…one more time…."

She opened her eyes then, and held his gaze for a long moment, feeling the results of his warm kisses on her body….it was humming and waiting for him. She'd been waiting for him all her life… "I love you, Woody…" she whispered, before he claimed her lips again.

Woody let out a long sigh, before taking her hands in his, one on either side of her head, and leaned his forehead against hers. "I love you, too, Jordan Marie Cavanaugh." He reached over to his nightstand, opened a drawer, and pulled out a condom.

Jordan put out a hand to stop him, remembering her emotions from the weeks before…her desires not only for Woody, but also to carry his child. "You don't have to…I mean…" she stammered.

Softly Woody smiled at her. He figured as much from the tone in her voice this afternoon when she told him she wasn't pregnant. "I know…" he replied gently. "And maybe one day before too long….but right now, I want you to myself…just for me."

* * *

It was sometime later, when the moon was beginning to paint its glow on the walls of Woody's bedroom that Jordan roused herself to look over at Woody, who was sound asleep on his side facing her. His tenderness and concern over the past several hours had made her lose her breath and feel her heart finally mend all at the same time. He had been an incredibly thoughtful and tender lover…better than she had ever dreamed of…

More than she had ever hoped for.

Without stopping to think, she leaned over and gently kissed his lips. "I love you, Woody," she whispered…only to feel his strong arm snake around her waist and pull her closer with a slight poke to the ribs. She let out a squeal.

"You woke me up to tell me something you've said over and over for the past …several hours?" he chuckled, pulling her closer.

"Yes, I did…" she poked him in his ribs in return.

"Good." He paused to run his fingers down the length of her long, chestnut hair and pull her lips down to his again. "Because I'll never get tired of hearing you say that … no matter how many times you tell me that, I'll never get tired of it…"

"Really?"

"Yes, really…because you see, I love you, too. And I'll never leave you, Jordan." His blue eyes held her whiskey-colored ones in a solemn gaze. "You never have to worry about that again."

Jordan held his look. She had bee lied to most of her life by the men she had loved the most. Her father. Eddie…and for a while, Woody. But Woody wasn't lying now. He was very, very serious. "I know," she said softly. "I know."

"I know I've been an asshole in the past…and I never meant to hurt you…well, maybe I did at the start…but I never meant…."

Jordan stopped him with a finger to his lips. "In all the time we've known each other, we've worked on cases as a detective and an ME. On a personal level, we've either hung out, or fought like cats and dogs. I can count on one hand the times we've kissed. We've made love twice. I think we've got some baggage there, despite our feelings of each other. And maybe…just maybe….you're right…."

Woody gave her a quizzical look. He wasn't sure where she was going with this, but she had admitted he was right and was still snuggled up warm and willing against him. His body reacted strongly to the memory of her once again wrapped closely around his, urging him on with soft words of encouragement and deep moans. "Right about what?" he managed to get out.

"That we need some closure….to the past….the way we treated each other and why. Maybe we need that in order to really go forward….because God knows, Woody, I don't want to go back to the past. I love you and just want to keep moving with that."


	15. Starting Over

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Starting Over**

_We need some closure. _Four lethal words. Just like "_get the hell out," _these particular ones had an immediate, and totally unmanning affect on Woody's libido. Temporarily he prayed.

"Wha...wha...what are you saying Jordan?"

Jordan sat up leaving Woody feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the sudden absence of her body heat. He closed his eyes and prayed as Jordan tucked the bed sheet around her body.

She drew a careful breath like she was calculating the weight of her words. "Before we make any more mistakes, we need to clear the air..."

Woody sat up. His only answer was a nod. Clear the air. He didn't know if he could since he didn't seem to have the air with which to speak.

"I...I thought we did...last night...here. We said we were just going to move forward." Gently, he turned her face towards his. "Please Jordan. Are you having second thoughts?"

Her eyes darted to the side and her lips pursed before she could look him in the eye. She cupped his chin in her palm and tried to rub away the worry lines that framed the corner of his lips with the pad of her thumb. "No," she assured him breathlessly. "No, I love you Woody. I want a future together. I just think we need to do make sure there is nothing that can come back and bite us in the ass."

Through the dark shadows, Jordan flashed him a little smile that was more reassuring than anything she could say. Woody visibly relaxed, leaning back against the headboard, and pulling her loosely into his arms, hoping the darkness of the room would make it easier to talk. There was something about confessing your soul in the harsh light of day. The same thing could be said about having deep, meaningful discussions completely naked. There was no place to hide.

"Where do we start?"

"Two years ago. Boston General...maybe before."

Woody shifted uncomfortably, "I'm not going to make any excuses Jordan. My life had gone to hell in a hand basket and getting shot was just one more thing to add to the pile. I admit it, I lost it, and you were just the easiest person to take it out on."

"I deserved better, Woody."

"I know," he whispered kissing her temple. If he could take away every evil word, every cold look, every hurtful action, he would. "Hindsight's twenty-twenty, Jordan. I know now I pushed you away because for first time since..."

Woody stalled. What did he want to say? Since the first time he tried to be someone he wasn't? Since he tried to escape the boy he was and become the man he wanted to be? He drew her fingers through his, unconsciously reaching for some thread of unspoken support.

As if she could read his mind, Jordan brushed her lips against his, helping him to restore his confidence and prod him to continue. Boston General was the middle of the story. Woody started at the beginning:

"I picked Boston because it was a world away from Kewaunee. I thought if I wiped the slate clean, I could change. Maybe I could be that person that only good things happen to. I met you and I thought it was possible."

Jordan smiled softly in his direction. The Jordan Woody met all those years ago was a confused ten year old girl stuck in a woman's body. At first, his sweetness and kind heart made her a little envious and then she saw grimaces of the man inside. What a conundrum they were. Jordan knew now that as she was discovering the ability to trust and see the goodness in the world, Woody was rediscovering the pain of reality.

"When Devan died I knew that there were no such things as happy endings."

Feeling very naked and very vulnerable, Jordan clutched the sheet higher on her chest, feeling the lurch in her pulse through her fingertips.

"You loved her. Didn't you?"

"I don't know, maybe, in some selfish way. I realize now I love the_ idea_ of her. She was... _you..._ without that knack of making me want to pull my hair out in frustration. And to top it off she always took me at face value and she never made me look too far inside myself."

Jordan raised her chin. "After she...after the plane crash, I thought we were heading in the right direction."

"We were, Jordan. We just couldn't agree on all the ground rules of what that direction was," he whispered softly, evenly. "But I don't think that's what happened. Cal...happened and then..."

"I'm so sorry, Woody."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for. You didn't do anything wrong, Jordan. If anything you've always been completely honest with me."

Jordan let out an unlady like snort and readjusted the sheet over her knees.

"I'm serious!" he smiled. "Come on Jordan, you've always been honest with me about...us, about the things that really matter. To tell you the truth, I always envied that about you."

Jordan bit her lip at the irony of hid declaration. Envy. They more of kindred spirits then she ever imagined.

It was time to turn the conversation to what she felt was the heart of the matter. She turned to give him a searching look.

"What happened? Where did we go wrong when you were shot?"

He raised her hand to his mouth kissing the curve of her palm. "Honestly? I wanted to hurt myself and I ended just hurting you instead. For that I'll never forgive myself," he stated plainly, like he was telling her what he had for dinner the night before.

"You did though, Woody," she whispered, barely audibly. "I put myself out there for you, opened my heart and you threw it back in my face. I don't think you have any idea how much it took for me to admit how I felt. After that, I swore I wouldn't put her heart up for target practice for you a second time."

The thought of another man holding her, talking to her, during these dark early morning hours, when the only two people in the world were them, had him seeing red.

Woody wasn't naive. He knew two years was a long time. He'd be crazy not to think there wouldn't be others in her life. Good men, smart men, better men. Men that would tell her how beautiful she looked, men that would tell her how good her lips tasted, men that were there when he wasn't. He'd be hypocritical to think she sat at home mourning about what wasn't meant to be. It wasn't like he wallowed in his own self destructive pity for long. He used Leighanne just as badly as he used Jordan. Worse. He let her believe they had a bright future ahead of them.

Woody bit back a mirthless laugh. He had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. He had hurt himself right where he didn'twant to: Jordan.

What now? Was he supposed to get up gracefully and leave giving her space or was he supposed to fall out of bed and drop to his knees begging her ever loving forgiveness? In his current state of dress neither plan seemed to be the most desirable scenario. Egotistically, Woody thought there were times a man wants the woman he loves to see him naked ...and this wasn't one of them.

Instead he brushed the hair back from her face and studied it gravely. It maybe hard for Jordan to open her heart, but it was just as hard for Woody to let her see his real-utterly-flawed-never-good-enough-little-boy self.

"Are...are you saying that...even though you love me, its not good enough? I'm sorry Jordan. If I could do over the least two years. Hell, if I could do over the last thirty years, I would. But it's not possible. Believe me I've tried to more than once and I've made a lifetime of mistakes because of it. I'll do anything to make this up to you Jordan, but if you want a guarantee, that is something I can't give you. "

Before he could say another word, Jordan touched her fingertips to his lips.

"No. What I'm saying is I don't need a guarantee Woody. All I need is you. The real you, not some picture perfect version you want me to see. I need to feel your pain as well and your elation. I need to know your passions and your doubts. I want to be the one you turn to when the demons get to strong to fight by yourself. I've said it before. You are not alone in the world, Woody. And you don't need to protect me, especially from yourself.

"There is no such thing as happily ever after. I don't want that perfect life," she smiled. "I want a real life. I want to argue over trivial stuff. I want to fight like cats and dogs about everything from baseball to politics. I also want to know you'll always have my back, like I have yours. I want to hold you when life gets to you and I want to hold you for no other reason than it's Tuesday. I love you. I never thought I ever say this, but I'm in for the long haul. I want a relationship; an honest-to-God-toothbrush-caddy-sharing relationship.

"I just needed you to know you hurt me by not letting me in. Maybe I should have pressed harder than I did. I admit I was scared if I pushed you too hard I'd find out I was wrong about you..."

Woody eyebrows narrowed with confusion. "Wrong? I don't understand."

Jordan settled back into his arms as she continued. "When you pushed me away I thought it was only your fear talking. I don't believe a person can turn they're feelings off like a light switch. Love can turn to disgust maybe...but never to indifference. I was worried that if I pressed I'd find out that that the indifference was real..and you never did care for me to begin with..."

Woody groaned like a knife had just been stabbed into his heart. "Now what, Jordan? I'm a terrible, horrible person that hurt you where I could do the most damage. I've totally destroyed my life more often than I can count and dragged you down in the process. You say you want a relationship, but does that mean with me? Because I'm very confused right now. Is this your way I getting back at me? Turn the tables, up the stakes and then cut me to the quick? Because if that is your aim, you're pretty damn right on the mark."

"No Woody. I just wanted you see where I was coming from," she smiled smugly against his chest. "And I think I succeeded."

"So are we even?" Woody's pouting pride spoke.

"No, we're clearing the air. Starting over."

"I'm so done starting over my life, Jordan," Woody snorted.

"You never started it over with me before, Cowboy. You and me, together, a new beginning. No more shadows from the past. The real us. For better or worse."

"Are you proposing to me, Doc?" he smiled.

"Now? When we have to get up in two hours to go to work? No."

"Good. Because I'm an old fashioned kind of guy."

"The bended-knee-lots-of-flowers-velvet-boxes kinda guy?" she asked biting her lip.

"Add moonlight and soft music and you get the picture."

"Mmm…. well," she said rolling him over with a siren's smile. "I can wait. But, since we have two quality hours to kill..."

"...Yes?" he murmured through a welcome feeling of life in his lower body.

"Maybe we can work a little on the part that comes after I say 'yes'."

He only nodded his head and opened his hand, sliding it between her legs, finding the perfect way to end their conversation.


End file.
